He was a broken branch grafted onto a different family tree. Adopted, but only because his parents opted for a different destiny. He was three when he became a mixed drink of one part left alone and two parts tragedy.

Started therapy in 8th grade. Had a personality made up of tests and pills. Lived like the uphills were mountains and the downhills were cliffs. Four fifths suicidal. A tidal wave of anti depressants and an adolescence of being called names. One part because of the pills and ninety nine parts because of the cruelty.

He tried to kill himself in grade ten when a kid who had a mum and dad had the audacity to tell him "get over it". As if depression is something that can be remedied by any of the contents found in a first aid kit.

To this day, he is a stick of TNT lit from both ends. Could describe to you in detail the way the sky bends and the moments before it's about to fall and despite an army of friends who all call him an inspiration he remains a conversation piece between people who can't understand. Sometimes becoming drug free has less to do with addiction and more to do with sanity.