the past few weeks

I received news that my birth Mother had passed away and on top of all the stress of being bullied plus getting laid off and having to withdraw from last semester and friends' deaths, I just wanted to take a jog around the neighborhood. Maybe my sadness was overwhelming to my adoptive parents and maybe they thought I was trying to run away but honest to God I just wanted to take a jog while crying this off. I never got to meet my birth Mother. I was three months old when I was adopted. It was heavy and deep and so real. They wouldn't let me leave the house but I got out with no violence, never violence, just a lot of yelling. Apparently what I was wearing looked weird to a Vestavia cop so he pulled over and got me in the car and I said Did you hear about that girl from Vestavia that got shot and he said Ah yeah, Hannah Frey, girl in North Carolina, her Uncle accidentally shot her thinking she was breaking in. I said I already know that but are you going to shoot me because you do have a gun. He just let me out at home and said he was sorry about my Mother's death. I got out later that night and did NOT want to go out to eat or be in the car like I stated. I wanted to mourn alone so I darted across the interstate when my parents were at a gas station and noticed all the litter of beer cans and bottles and started cleaning it up off the side of the road then I realized there was a tornado coming for real towards Tuscaloosa where my brother lives so I ran through traffic to get there to be with him since my phone was dead and some woman screamed at me YOU BITCH so I just said fuck it and threw up all the cans and bottles I had collected and one hit her car and apparently she called the police on me so I got taken to the psyche unit for the sixth time since October 2007 where I learned that it is just for "behavorial problems" and that "occult" just means hidden. I got dismissed as being not "mentally ill." I'm not crazy, I just have and will have a lot going on throughout my life because of who I am and because of my passions I fight for. I was hospitalized from April 30th-May13th and got a little cake in the hospital which was sweet of them but I barely got discharged in time to catch my friends' last house show in Tuscaloosa and was so drowsy on fucking Geodon that I missed their band but it's all good. At least I got a chance to live. Who cares about our "problems." Seriously. People have it worse and deal with it. I worry about my parents' health a lot but they believe in Heaven and God so I guess they're good to go plus they're great parents so I'll never forget them. My mysterious bloodline is like an easter egg hunt until I found the rotten egg but there's many gems to be found. I could be part Guarani. I feel like I got kicked out of tribe. She did tell the agency that she didn't want me to be made fun of because of how I looked, mixed. Ha! Oh man. Not made fun of? I've even been bullied at punk shows in Birmingham for not looking punk enough apparently, the fashion side of it. Fuck it. I've had racial slurs and been called batshit insane by an ex that was just jealous that I was with someone else but this is all very petty considering that people die of starvation everyday. Just think about that for a minute. Starvation. My Facebook profile picture is from SurvivalInternational.com The Guarani have a high suicide and starvation rate. Suddenly life just got a lot brigther for me and filled with more meaning. I have two nations, duel citizenship. I would die for either. They are my homes. I'm no longer broken, just very lost. A lost child looking for Mommy but Mommy's dead so I feel like I've been freed from a lifetime of questioning. My emotions were monsters so I tried to kill it three times but won't again--We all eventually walk out on this world.