"A Stray. a derogatory term used to various feline hybrids, primarily children, who have deceased and/or neglectful parent/s. considered a slur in many areas."
that's what i am, a stray.
since i was born my name didn't matter, they all saw me as what i am, "just a stray".
ever since i can remember, i rarely saw my parents, all i saw were the orphanage workers and other kids, all taken from or abandoned by their parents, just like me.
i still remember the day my mom died, the letter that came in the mail about my inheritance from her. i was 13 at the time, they told me I'd get the inheritance money and any assets she left behind when i turned 18.
i cried so much that night, i had to keep quiet so the ladies didn't beat me, but i was a frequent troublemaker anyway so getting scolded wasnt new to me. but i was devastated, even though my mother was the reason i was in and out of that orphanage so often.
she had issues, many of them, she always said she loved me and tried to hide it, but that house was a bad place for a kid to live in, the was black mold in the attic and maggots crawling from under the floorboards, the sink was always full of dishes, my older sister had a room that looked like a dumpster, and my brother was always out and fucking around with every girl and probably even guy he found. we were always struggling for money too so there was barely any food too, and if there was it was either infested with flies or old and spoiled, my mom drunk a lot, sometimes even so much she yelled and screamed at me, she even threw a bottle at me once when i was very young. she always apologized, and promised to stop, but she never did, alcohol drove her to the grave and she died of alcohol poisoning at home when she was alone, her body rotted on the couch for 3 days till anyone found her since sister was on a work trip and brother was hotel jumping. i pity her, because she tried but never managed to actually be a truly good mother, she had a good heart though.
my father was a different case though, he lived with us until i was around 8, he kept our family together, even though sister and brother weren't even his kids, but he still treated us all equally, loved us all equally and kept us above water, a good man he was, until he went on trial for money laundering and being involved with a gang. there were a few more things in his sentencing too that caused him to go to prison, sentenced for live with a possibility for parole after 14 years. i couldn't believe it back then, but now i can look back and see how naive i was, never again. men are open books, they all have a bad side, every person does. i occasionally visit my father in prison, but we dont have much to talk about, though it is good to see that he is still rotting away in that place for the shit he did.
but that's all in the past, I'm 26 now, i visit my mother's grave every other year on the day she died, i usually just sit there in silence, it doesn't make sense to say anything and i never even have anything I'd want to say to her, but i do sit with her for at least 20 minutes whenever i am there, she wasn't the best mother but i still loved her, no matter how much i deny it. I don't have much contact with my siblings, i have their phone numbers in case something happens, but i dont really care for them, they're grown and can take care of themselves. and honestly, it's good i don't contact my siblings, they'd be disappointed if they knew all I've done. i killed three people, one person in thailand, one person in Venezuela and one person in alaska. two of them are still unsolved cases but someone else got convicted for my Venezuelan murder, apparently he had previous problems with the victim and didn't have a stable alibi, so they put him in jail, i feel kinda bad for the guy, but he was involved with a gang so it was also deserved.
A year ago i got a diagnosis for Adhd and a Bipolar Disorder the year before. i probably have a few more issues with my head, but these two seem to be the main thing, and i was speculating bipolar for a while cuz i did a good bit of research in the past. i guess after changing my gender it really is easier to get diagnosed, even though the symptoms are the exact same... what a stupid world we live in.
i met them a few months ago in a library while i was looking through cookbooks, i needed one because im bad at cooking and online are too many options, and It'd help to learn new recipes, they were looking through the true crime books who were in the same aisle for some reason, i saw them struggling between two books and stupidly spoke up, pointing at one of the books and saying that the story in it was more accurate, i hadn't actually read the book but i often listen to audiobooks and watch documentaries so i know a bit...
