My life began in Stockton, California on March 29, 1988 at Dameron Hospital. In 1991, I was entered into the system as a foster child, it was still unclear whether this was voluntary or involuntary. Between the years 1991 and 1992 I practically lived in hospital due to my deep wounds. I was stabbed six times, suffered a spinal injury and had to undergo several medical procedures to repair the damage. In 1993, at the age of five, I was placed in the care of my grandmother who took care of me until September 12, 1996, when she died of natural causes. At this point I was dragged from foster homes to orphanages, from orphanages to foster homes, and from foster homes back to foster homes. From 1996 to 2000, I lived in six group homes, four different states, three orphanages, and 16 different foster families. Every terrible thing that could have happened happened. I have been molested, beaten, starved, abandoned, homeless, raped, degraded, insulted, …etc. All the emotional, physical, and spiritual abuse I received made me a very confused, resentful, and extremely depressed child. Whose only wish was for this life to end or for things to somehow get better overnight. While I had some good families and wonderful times, they were so few and far between that they felt more like dreams than reality.