Last year I lived with my aunty and my cousins. We lived in a 2 story house with 4 bedrooms. My older brother and I had to sleep on these little couches. We’d have to wake up so early just so we can get to school on time. We may have not had a lot of clothes or food like many people, but it was something rather than living on streets with nothing but little clothes on our back. I’d use to feel lost in that house, nobody understood me and nobody really cared about each other. I’d run around all day by myself and come back home around 6 or 7 at night. When I came back home I'd open the window and sit on the roof and imagine the good days. Where we all cared and loved for eachother. It wasn’t great but I'm thankful for the time I've spent at that house.