“Sometimes the bad things that happen in our lives put us directly on the path to the best things that will happen to us.”            – Author unknown
     Growing up in a broken home, each family was worse than the last. I couldn’t take it anymore. The moving, the disappointments. When would it stop! I felt I was never good enough for anyone. I could be better… I was just a washout. No one wanted me. I’ve always tried to be good, but no one was willing to take me in. Each family pushed me closer and closer to the edge.
     But this time, I was not going to fall, I was going to jump. No one deserved a life like this, so why did I? I always told myself: no expectations, no disappointments. First my parents, then my hope, now my life. Each taken away so quickly, too fast to grasp. As a child, I relied on my parents, until one night I woke up to the smell of smoke. I began to scream. Before I could ruminate, someone grabbed me. It was a firefighter.
  Every moment of my life, I needed someone. Someone to hold me, tell me everything was alright, tell me everything was ok and that I was going to be fine. But, I knew it wasn’t. Nothing was right, I wouldn’t be fine. Even now after fourteen years my life wasn’t good. As I look down towards the bustling trucks under the bridge, I felt a strong breeze telling me it was time.
     “Ma’am are you ok?” a stranger asked.