My story is quite complicated. My life is complicated. As I sit here and think of where to start so many thoughts rush through my mind like an overflowing, rushing volcano. The contents in my mind are burning from within. I'm going to try to start at the point of where I can't remember; at the age of 3. I have vivid and imaginative dreams but I cannot piece the puzzle together. It is driving me insane that I cannot figure out what really happened to me. It is insane that my family, out of brokeness and dysfunction, will not come together and tell me the truth. I was molested at the age of 4 and I am haunted by the thoughts of it and hurt by the untruth and unlove of my family.

Just so you know, I am in court battling the perpetrator; I have been as long as I can remember. The accused is my dad's brother. That is a major complication.

I am going to express what my mother as told me, what my father says, and what I believe happened. I wnt to give you all some background on my parents. My mother had me at the age of 16. She came from a broken home with a mother who had been through hell. She dropped out of high school to work to support me and start her on life. My father had already graduated high school. He came from a dysfunctional family as well but his family was too proud to label themselves as troubled. His father had multiple children out of the wedlock of his mother. Both of my parents were familiar with drugs. When I was born, my dad left my mom for her cousin. Soon enough my mom's family began to transition. She recieved her GED and went to school to become a registered nurse. My dad is now in prison on drug charges.

This is the story of my mother:
Due to a mutual child custody agreement between my parents, my mother had me for a weekend. In a restroom at a movie theater, she says I began to complain that my bottom "itched." Immediately after she had taken a look, she grabbed me and began to scream "who did it?" She says I gave her my uncle, dad's brother's name. She rushed me to the hospital and said I had the same story for the doctors, police, CPS and other officials. My uncle was accused. My Dad and his mother were present at the Hospital. The records show that my grandmother had wiped Vasoline on the bumps for about a month. My uncle was not immediately arrested. My mother was easy on him, but still furious. In court, he proclaimed that he was guilty to get a lesser sentance, but later broke his probation and accumulated multiple drug and violence related charges. He is still in prison today.

My father's family had me under the impression that my mother set it up for my uncle to be in prison because she does not like him. They painted a picture of her being a malevolent, violent woman. They made it seem as if they were a perfect family and that she had caused so many problems for them. I began to turn against my mother, believing that all they said was true. My dad's family had me going to laywers exclaiming that my mother had told me to say those things and that my uncle is innocent. Most of his family truly believe this is the true case.

Sometimes I don't know what to think. I believe my mother is telling me the truth, but sometimes I began to think maybe not. My mom's story is unchanging, though, and when she comes to me with it, it is from her heart. She tells me that my fathers family is selfish and that they should consider me as a child and all they are putting me through. That is so true. Recently, I've had the oportunity to view the records and I broke down to learn that I had many STD's back then. There were so many hospital records. NO ONE WILL SIT WITH ME AND TELL ME THE TRUTH. No one will give me a full story with all of the details. I use to think if I block it out of my memory then it will go away, but that will never happen. I am huanted nightly in my dreams. All of this has kept me from being the person I could have been since the age of 4. It hurts me to think that my family would hurt me so, but carry on as if everything is normal. I've thought of suicide, but God is showing me my future. One day, when I am over this I know that I am going to be a stong man who will love his children with all I am. Even though right now I am hurting from the depths of my soul, one day I will learn to love and forgive. There will be a time when I will only shed tears of joy.

I feel locked in an uncompromizing box waiting on the truth to set me free.