Up until I was 8, my life really wasn't bad. We always had food and necessities. Things changed when we moved because my dad wanted us to grow up in a better area, and so he could get a local job. For awhile things were fine, but things took a turn for the worst when my dad started getting into drugs. He was in and out of a few jobs. We started being evicted from our home. My mom at some point started doing drugs with my dad. My parents still loved us, but they ignored us a lot. One Christmas when I was 9, it was spent sitting on the living room floor watching Doug with my brother. My parents didn't leave their room because they were too strung out. We were taken not too long after. My parents started having crazy hallucinations that eventually lead to them calling the police on some mysterious figure that didn't exist. That was the night we were taken away.

We were only in foster care for a few months. My parents were bailed from jail by my grandparents and they got their shit together. They got off the drugs and became the parents they used to be.