A young boy aged 17 has been through much stress in his time. Family death, abuse, drugs and many hospital visits. But what ever did he do to deserve this? How did this all happen to such a sweet little boy?
Hi there. My name is Ash. Im a 17 year old kid whos going through alot. Been through alot. Have so much more to go through. Family deaths, history of being abused, minor criminal record, some things that have stuck with me my whole life that just dont seem right. This was me about three months ago. I dont really have recent photos. I'm basically the same looking besides my bit of a mullet, not much of one.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
It all started when I was just little. I was quite a cute kid to be honest. From what I remember, I was pretty short up until I was about 14. I was covered in freckles on my face, neck and shoulders and always wore my big bros shirt around the house.
I'd a majour obsession with animals and creepy crawlies, I loved playing with bugs and beetles, spiders and ants. The more legs the better. I had an ant farm aswell and I was fascinated by it. I'm pretty sure I had even tried to name all of them.
I was about 9 when I had realized things about myself has seemed off. I didn't see people the way everyone else saw them. I never went through the whole 'girls have cooties' phase. All my best friends we're girls. I was notorious for having lots of 'girl friends'. In all actuality, I didnt realize until I was about 12. I was what alot of people called; gay.
I didn't think much of it until I started hearing the word 'Gay' used in ways I didnt think existed. Things like gay scum, dirty fag and the like. So i kept my mouth shut.
By age 16 I had noticed many little things about boys I liked. The way their eyes would squint when they laughed or smiled, when they would stretch and their bellies showed,and how when a certian boy smiled his whole face lit up.
That boy was Luca Hughes. He was the most beautiful person I had seen in a long time. I know there's no such thing as perfection but I swear when I saw that boy I saw an angel. Now by that age, I could say I was around 6'. He however he was only about 5'4. Thats another thing I found cute about him, was he was so short compared to me that when we first hugged his face only came up to around my chest, and I could rest my chin perfectly atop his fluffy curly locks of cinnamon coloured hair. I've placed a photo in my journal here. Its one of the few things I have from him still.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Cute isn't he? Atleast I believe he is. Anyways... er, where was I?
Family. So I grew up in an apartment in the Canadian city of Toronto. My dad had worked as a business man for a while and my mother worked as a nurse. We sustained a stable income and she managed to raise two boys. I say my mother raised us as my dad was a fucking mong and was never home. I tried to convince mom he was cheating as often he would tell her he had gotten called into work for a weekend, but the phone had never rung.
I also have an older brother named Thomas. Hes 23. I remember the shirt I always wear, my favorite one is his. It has this little 'Ø' symbol but I'm not quite sure what It means. But I love the shirt as my bro was a bigger guy, very muscular and way taller. Even now at age 17 the shirt is still baggy.
I grew up in this apartment playing the N64 and sketching scenery whenever possible of the view of people and buildings outside my bedroom window. I had a pretty decent childhood when my dad wasn't away or beating the shit out of my mom, or when they weren't arguing and shouting at eachother. Big bro knew the yelling upset me when I was a kid so he would take me to the flower shop across the street to pick out some flowers for mum, and then he'd take me to the bookstore to pick out a new story as I loved to read. I practically lived at the bookstore and flowershop, and the little cafe down the street as it had free wifi and of course coffee. It was very chic.
My mother loved us to death and sometimes I wonder why she didn't leave my prick of a father sooner. He ruined everything for us. Our trust, our love for him, our bond we had before he started to drink. He went out more came home less. Smelled of every perfume. We knew he was a lying cheating cunt. But our mom seemed blind.
