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Word Count: 1,425
The House That Broke Into Me My mistakes caused me to lose a year of my freedom Through my own stupidity I managed to get arrested as a teenager for second-degree burglary and spent a year of my life in repentance I was devoid of all of the freedoms I had always taken for granted Though my actions would state otherwise I wasnt ready for consequences However I had plenty of time to reflect on how I had gotten myself into the situation To start family life wasnt a walk in the park Being the first son of an over-protective mother wasnt easy My mother had always kept a stranglehold on my freedoms I wasnt even allowed to ride my bicycle out of her sight until I was thirteen years old This was about the same time ironically that I sought escape so fervently Many people would say that this didnt warrant the things I had done but there were other complications My father hadnt been around since I was two years old He was a convict a drug addict and a boxer in that order Mom married my stepfather when I was eight or so and he began beating her on their wedding night almost like hed been waiting for the chance I hated him and it only got worse Though he never hurt my brother or me intentionally watching what my at the time speed freak mother had to endure was torture enough Add poverty to this already volatile concoction and you had the formula for a repeat-offending runaway From thirteen on I ran away from home weekly at least sometimes longer I learned to live on the streets stayed with people Id only just met and did anything I could for food or cigarettes Anything was better than going home to them I even had a semi-homosexual experience with an elderly gentleman for two packs of USA cigarettes and twenty
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