I was brought up as an only child, and we were very close. But when I was 14, we got evicted. We came home to a padlock, and I looked up at my mom and she was crying, and there was nothing to do.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I was 14 when I moved into my own apartment. I was so scared. I didn't know anything.
I was an only child. We were so poor, my parents and I had the same room.
My parents were dealing with evictions and repossessions and electricity getting shut off, and I just realized that I had to get it together.
But even though all this was going on at home, if someone had tried to take me away and put me in a children's home, I couldn't have handled it. Even though my mother was very brutal, it was my home.
I ended up dropping out of high school at 16 and getting kicked out of my home. My parents told me, sadly, that because I was so disruptive to the rest of the household, that I could no longer live under their roof.
My parents just neglected me, I wasn't abused or anything.
I was an abused kid.
I was an only child. I hung out with my parents.
I was just a guy who ran away from home at 16 because my parents were getting a divorce and the judge was making me choose which parent to live with. I didn't want to make that choice. I ended up in New York City.
They couldn't wait to get me out. My dad found my place, my mom helped me pack, and my brother was making architectural plans for my bedroom. It was just what you do at 18.
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