Something that will make you turn your nose up at me or in the very least, send you running in the opposite direction.

I’m damaged. I’m cursed with horrible luck that seems to make even the worst situation suck about ten times more.

There’s something else you should know about me.

I have always been very family oriented. I was an only child, but my parents doted on me none the less. You see, life was perfect. I had everything I could ever want. Life was perfect.

Something changed. Suddenly, before I was 14, I knew my life was about to change for good. I knew I had to grow up real fast. My dad got sick with cancer, and after two years of endless hospital visits, chemotherapy, surgery and gut wrenching heartache, he passed away.

I stuck around for a while, but my mother started drinking because she couldn’t stand the thought of being a young widow. I had just lost my father, and my mother would never be the same.

So right after the funeral service, I grabbed my brand new prada backpack, not bothering to pack it, and took the 64a train into the heart of New York City. I left that bag and what was left of my life in a hockshop on Greenwich Street and took the first bus out of town I could get.

Three days later, I showed up on my Grandmother’s doorstep with nothing but the clothes on my back and three dollars in my pocket.

And so begins my life here in the middle of shit-stink Oklahoma.