I was born and named, but I wasn’t supposed to make it. I was loved and claimed, but still, I wasn’t supposed to make it. I was born In West Philadelphia to a seventeen -year -old girl who had epilepsy, and a father who had a drug, and alcohol addiction. My mother only lived eight…

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    Dear Diary, May 1, 2008   As tears stream down my face I search through my make up to find concealer to cover up the black eye I received the day before. Looking in the mirror I ask myself why I stay, and the answer is always the same. I stay because of…

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