Happy Birthday, Cancer

January 1, 2011
   
Happy Birthday, Cancer

I was born on this very day, thirteen years ago. My mother named me Cancer because she gave birth to me when she was with breast cancer. I'm not sure if that's possible, but I guess because it happened to me. I don't feel lucky to be called Cancer. Why? Well it feels like I'm a living, breathing, killing cancer. Everybody at school runs away from me yelling "Run away! Or else you'll get the Cancer!" laughing like a bunch of idiots.

Funny thing is, my mother died two days after I was born, and I was placed in an orphanage, for my daddy was long gone. I was raised by a woman who was named Angelia. She had the most beautiful name that could ever be on this earth. However, she wasn't beautiful at all. Inside or out. One night, she came into the orphanage drunk, and decided she wanted to play a game. She made us come up to her and she would do whatever she wanted to us. Some she would kiss, others she would touch. She wasn't a lesbian, no, but she was drunk as hell. The next day she had a hangover, and most of the girls ran away. I stayed behind, knowing there's nowhere to go.

Now, every third of January I would ask Angelia to take me to the graveyard where my mother was buried. Sometimes she would make me walk the ten miles, others she would give me money to take the bus. She never took me there herself. She told me she had other hundred girls to take care of. None of the girls would go with me, thinking it was stupid. I hated them, all of them. They all smelled like Angelia's pot. I would always think they smoked it themselves. However, one girl did come with me once. I thought she was an angel. Nope. She was a fallen angel. She ditched me at the graveyard, taking the money for the bus. I had to walk the ten miles back to the orphanage.

Today, for my birthday, Angelia told me she is going to get me adopted. She told me that I would finally be out of her hair. I smiled, pleased. I will finally have a home. That was only one side of me. The other said that she's a lying b***h wanting to crush my hopes. My birthday wish is to die. I want to leave this living hell whether I get adopted or not. All I know is that I'll get adopted by crackheads, and junkies trying to rape me. Yip-pee. Last year I almost killed myself. Wish I did then, so now I wouldn't have to go through another year of Raping Angelia. I'm surprised she's not in jail yet. Imma have to do something about that.

So, happy birthday, Cancer! Another year of living hell. I hope you're happy. 'Cause I surely ain't.