Ok, this one took me a while. At first, I thought about mannerisms or attitudes I may have gotten from my parents. And I figured my dad didn't give me anything, and I'm sure my mom didn't really give me anything. There is one thing that everyone gave me:

the belief that life is about survival

Ever since I can remember, life was about survival. I have two memories of when my parents lived together: 1. My mom sitting on the edge of my bed, crying because my father beat her. 2. My brother and I (toddlers), standing in the kitchen, between my mom and dad, trying to stop them from having a fight. Hell, my mom left my dad because he hit me.

I can remember surviving my grandma, my mom, my father, my step-father, my brother, my other grandma, my grandpa, the kids at school, the teachers at school, almost everyone. I think I stopped surviving full-time in high school.

But even now, everything is about survival. Tap and I had a little argument the other day, and my first thoughts were, "Am I going to have to leave her?" I worry about my relationship with Amy, 'cause I don't know how to handle something this good. EVERYTHING pisses me off, and I think it's just a fight mechanism. I try to fight these urges to survive, but it's hard.

That's why I've dedicated my life to me and to making myself happy. I know that I have to lie down with myself every night. When I die, it's about me and God. As long as we're cool and I'm cool with myself, that's all that matters.