I wasn't born like this, yet I became like this. They say everyone has a chance; an equal opportunity for success. What are my chances now? Every second feels like a step closer to no longer existing. I fear the pain, the suffering; yet I imagine the peace. Would I be missed? Would they say, whatever happened to and think of me with fondness? Everything I own, I carry with me. All of who I am has been taken from me. The streets haven't been kind; the ugliness easier to deal with when something else controls my mind. Sometimes another day for me feels like torture. I exist; I'm here but am I really surviving? Somehow this has become my world; small like me in the eyes of others. A nobody in the eyes of most...