Thank You

So, I wrote this a little over a year ago. I decided that it was more of a thank you note, rather than a poem. Either way, it's me. . . doing what I do best. Writing.

To my father who walked out when I was 5 years old, thank you. . . for coming back. If it weren't for you, I would be just like her. . .

And ever since I was a little girl, that has been my biggest fear.

She always cussed me out, told me I was no good, and fed me this bullshit about how I wasn't going to make it in this world.

And I heard it so many times that I started believing it.

At one point I remember thinking to myself "If this is what it will take for her to stop all this, then I'm all for it."

So here I am, 7 years old. . . ode to the future me:

Dropping out of high school, having 2 kids, food stamps, and a job that makes me less than $15,000 a year.

The person that she is, is the EXACT person I refuse to become.

Thank you for waking me up, and helping me realize that I have potential. . .
For telling me that as soon as I can, I need to get out of this town, because if I stay here I'll be settling. . . and I'm too good to settle.

I refuse to be like the rest of my family.

I refuse to break my back and get absolutely nothing in return.

Thank you for helping me realize that I should worry about myself, and no one else. . . because in that search to help others, I will lose myself.