22 Amsterdam

Lakewood

22nd August

Well, I never thought I would start writing in one of these journals. I use to think they were stupid and pointless. I only started writing in this because Ms King - one of the social workers here - suggested it as I kept refusing to visit the therapist.
She said it would be a good way of "expressing my feelings ". Whatever.
I thought I might as well give it a chance, it is not like I have much else to do - also she's the only person here I haven't got in a fight with.
I didn't come here to this institute with the expectation to enjoy it, but I didn't think I would hate it this much from the beginning.
Not even a week of living here and I already got in a fight. We were lining up to receive lunch and I accidentally bumped in the guy. He took this as me intentionally bumping into him. He shouts at me and I ignore it. I'm not aggressive ,but I just felt really down for some reason and I just wanted to eat my lunch by myself.
He was giving these dirty looks which I kept ignoring. Suddenly, he just pushes me over and trips me up at the same time .
So I spilled my lunch everywhere.

I snapped. I punched him so hard in the face I knocked out a tooth and broke his nose.

The lunch room fell into dead silence.
The care team broke it off before it got more serious, but not before the guy twisted my wrist which hurt like a bitch .
From that moment on the older kids and younger kids kept their distance from me.
Which in a lot of ways I prefer to be by myself.
The stares and looks some of the kids and some of the adults give me, are all ones of judgement.
They either stare at me like I am weirdo, pathetic, loner" and that's not merely my thoughts.
I can hear them whisper it to one another ( not that they really mastered the art of being discreet) , the adults for the most part think that I am a loner who doesn't even attempt to make friends or cooperate - which on that one they weren't completely wrong.
They'd try their best to get me to socialise with the other kids even though it wouldn't work for the obvious reason they don't like me. Then with the situation with the older kid they said " We have no tolerance to violence but you shouldn't have punched him"
So I have given up on trying to do anything with them.
However,mm for some reason Ms King is the only one I haven't fought with and hasn't judged me ten ways to hell.

Which brings me back to this moment, sitting here in my room thinking what I am going to do until I leave here.
I have only been here a few months and I have already angered nearly everyone here. And in addition to that I have my own room -I know it is not a big issue - but a majority of the kids here share room maybe 2 people in a room or 4 people with bunk beds.
However,I have my own room when I came here which some of kids here weren't too happy with at all. They saw it as preferential treatment
Forgetting I was one of the last kids to arrive here and this one of the last rooms here and it was wasn't bigger than a modern bathroom.

Nevertheless that seemed to further their anger towards.
And like I said I am beyond caring at this point.
I won't lie running away from here did cross my mind - my room was on the third floor and it faced the backyard and if I managed to climb down the pipes and across the ledges the ran across the back yard climbed over the wall which faced the street - however I remember that running away from a state run home would bring in the authorities also my experience that doesn't work out well.
Also I don't have a lot of money to escape so either ways I am stuck here.

I would ask how I ended up here but I already know the answer. Marian Isaacs. My step mom. She passed away earlier this year.
The odd thing is that I'm not even upset about it, as heartless as that sounds. I know they say don't speak ill of the dead but in all honesty she was one cold heart bitch - for lack of a better word.
You know what? I'm not even going to talk about her now.
Its the result of her death that sucks the most.
Our house up in flames , the weeks of determining what do with us - my siblings and I.
Bobbi , Mark ,Julie and I sat there in the court house as they sat there deliberating and eventually declared that we are " children of state " to be shipped off to different state home rooms in the state.
Mark and Julie started to cry profusely and screaming, as they were taking them out of the court room. Bobbi stood there her fist balled into fists by her sides the frustration emitting from her as if she wanted punch someone.
I slumped back into my seat feeling disappointed, it isn't as though I didn't expect the outcome , it's just the reality of it hit me harder than I expected.
Now,all of them are somewhere in a state ran house and I don't even know where. I have haven't had contact since that day.
However I am not worried about their well-being. I know Bobbi could take care of herself. She is a controlling pain in the ass but ultimately I know she cares and if I know anyone who can take care of themselves it's her.
Mark and Julie - I'm not so sure since they are quite a few years younger than me, but for some reason I have this odd sense of assurance. I don't know why but I just do.
Also knowing their luck they would probably be the type of children adopting parents would want.
Whereas I, I wouldn't be. I know most adopting parents would usually go for children younger than myself. In additional my antisocial behavior would be a major turn off. It's not that I don't like to interact with other people they usually just don't like interacting with me and I find it easier to be myself.
Despite thinking of different scenarios of getting out of here I will just have to accept my fate I will probably be stuck here for the next five or six years. I just hope I don't lose my peace of mindin the process. I would pray for a miracle but I know they don't exist.