I lived in a troubled neighborhood, where one in three teenagers died of an overdose of cocaine or ecstasy, alcohol, and violence. It wasn't safe to go out; there were criminals guarding every doorway. Many neighbors killed and robbed each other. And I was just a girl without protection, my father was taken to a psychiatric hospital. My mother worked from morning till night to somehow feed me and my aunt, who was an insane thief.

Real lucky families had fathers who were murderers and successful thieves. We were just the weakest link in the food chain. I survived the hardships of life with all my might.

None of my neighbors had positive aspirations. Girls and women became either thieves or prostitutes and drunks. No one imagined a good future where children would play on the playground and make friends with their peers. Everyone fought for material possessions, knowing no pity or mercy.

I always felt uncomfortable, I differed from my friends in my thinking. I told people I knew that it was possible to live differently and take care of loved ones. I believed in a positive outcome while in hopeless darkness. Many neighbors did not understand my actions. Since I was a child, I did not obey my peers or strangers and was rude. While my girlfriends were used as they wanted, I stood by and watched on the sidelines. Guys hated me and despised me, it was impossible to break such a creature. Apparently, I had inherited my father's rage and could not see myself as a victim.

Eight guys came after me to avenge their friends and show me who was boss. I called them up to the roof, and while we were climbing the stairs I knocked out five of my peers. And the older ones chased me down.Because I was aggressive they beat me up and robbed me and left.

Everyone thought I was a crazy psychopath, they even turned my uncle against me, saying I was provoking them with my presence. I could not believe anyone. My salvation: iron rebar and broken bottles.

I believed that I would get out of this hole and live like adequate people. My friends laughed in my face and gave me another bottle, which I gave up over time. Drinking alcohol instead of water was horrible, as was eating grass pies because of the fact that eating wholesome food was not accepted. I could not be like everyone else and was beaten for insubordination.

With each passing year, I became more and more violent. I faced injustice every day but continued to believe in the best. The only thing that saved me was the conviction that everything would end sooner or later. People I knew didn't understand where my core was coming from. Because outwardly I looked like a weak victim. And when a crowd comes after me to amuse and humiliate me, then none of the people who came after me remain unconscious. I used to slaughter crowds of guys in dark porches just so that my descendants wouldn't be told that their mother was a prostitute and the last whore. I sat in the props and lied to the last minute that I was a boy so that they wouldn't lay hands on me there.

Thanks to my mother, we got out of the goddamn neighborhood and moved to the other side of town. In the end, positive thinking works, and I will never be kind or dare to trust people. Life has taught me a lot. But I will continue to think positively despite the circumstances and remain with a cleansoul.