My Story
I grew up in a horrible neighborhood, full of drugs and murder and kidnappings and gangs. People put razor blades in candy on Halloween. I couldnt start a door to door lawn cutting business as a kid like my dad because it was too dangerous. I never left my house without a knife or my metal bat.
But I didnt let it get to me. I struggled, survived, and became stronger.
In the sixth grade, my life changed for worse, and the next three years of my life were Hell. Michael Jackson was accused of child molestation. My last name is Jackson, and kids took advantage. I was ostracized, bullied, teased, beat up. Called child fucker, gay, faggot, and kids offered me ranch dressing asking if I wanted some cum. They called me Michael’s little play toy. Kids yelled “Stay away from the kid toucher!”
I didnt get it. I couldnt handle it. I had no idea why these kids were bullying me. I never did anything wrong. No-one cared about me. My parents and teachers wouldnt help. So I was going to end it. In sixth grade. I was going to end it. The road I lived on was 45mph, but people easily went 60 and 65. So I stood on the sidewalk, waiting for a speeder to come by, hoping a big suv would crush my scrawny body.
But I didnt let that happen. I stepped away, became stronger, and survived.
From then on I fought. Physically and mentally. I fought my peers and fought myself. I just kept going.
And this is to you from the kid who is still fighting today.
It gets better. It will always get better. You just have to fight, and never stop. Never stop struggling, surviving, and keep going. There are people out there just like you, people who want to help. Even if it doesnt seem like anyone wants to help. There are people out there that will help you become strong and carry on.
And always remember, you are beautiful. So so very beautiful, and that I love you. All sorts of people love you. You are a life worth living, with so much to look forward to. So shine on, diamond eyes. Shine on.

