So, why are you such a loner?

So many people know I write and have excellent grades. I have great looks and a way that I carry myself sets me apart from the hundreds of thousands that are in my age group. But, what few know - is that -- I'm quite the loner.

For some odd reason, I get classified as player, joker, or general cool cat. However, it hasn't always been this way. Perhaps, I can explain why I never imagined I'd be called anything but weird, annoying, and the worst thing God took the time to create.

When I was younger, way young, let's say when I was around 5 and my cognitive recognition was kicking in. Life was turned on it's head. I was watching the life of a 20 something-er, watching her taking shots & drinking beer, wearing revealing clothing, and well watching my mother do drugs around me. She'd party and have relations with both genders well into the morning -- while I was in the other room. If there wasn't a party or sex in the other room, my house wasn't normal.

Men ran through my house and mother quicker than water runs through a sifter, with ease. My mother drew no lines, let anyone crash, strangers and enemies alike. Unbeknowst to her, she wasn't the only host the guests were enjoying. I got called out on several occasions, to serve my mother's requests often embarrassing. However, one night -- my innocence would be robbed from me. One man, who I trusted, took my virginity -- to this day inhibiting me to let myself go sexually. Honestly, I've never had a full body orgasm that I've given dozens of women. I refuse to let go, when my own body was used in a purpose that I can't even begin to understand.

I was told to keep shut, or worse would happen to me. By my very own mother, it hurt to look into her eyes and to see that the demonic blindess of drugs made her turn her love away from her own child. My own recollection of the event that happened between my mother's lover and myself has faded, but to this day I still have nightmares about this man.

Before I knew it, my mother o'd and I was in the foster care system. She recovered in a hospital, but that last person she wanted to call was me. The state assumed and labeled her as unfit, and arrested her for endangerment of a child.

At this time in my life. I never had a single child friend, my life was spent in the shadow of my mother and her drug addiction, she never held a single job - yet held me hostage when all I wanted to do was explore the real world and just be a happy kid.

I regret that my formative years were spent going from my mother's drug haven of a house, then to a crack house, to men's houses, foster homes, court houses and finally my grandmother and grandfather's house.

I just wanted something to call my own. Some piece of myself that wasn't polluted, all I was handed was hurt, the hurt of my mother -- that she lost her own mother. My mother took her depression out in a bottle and a needle. I take mine out in cigarettes and being lonely. I've shadow boxed with the demon of addiction, however, I've succumbed, to the addiction of meaningless sex. Til this day, I can't keep a woman in my life ... b|c sooner than later, she'll want to sleep with me, and of course after the deed is done, I'm just as empty as before.

I refuse to blame my mother and her drug addiction for my own mental incapacity. I blame no one for my own condition. I blame her for forgetting that her own seed is more important that a nick of dust.

To this day, I have remained socially awkward -- I see people as fickle, liars, and shells of something utterly ugly. I admire few, and hang around even fewer. I now have a cynical nature after trying to grow into a beautiful young lady. I mean what is the point of opening up to be shut down? I'd rather keep my distance.

I may have an exceptional GPA, interesting perspective, but I'm hurting -- I can't let go of the cards that I was dealt, I've refused to shuffle to get a better hand. I really want to change for the better, but my past is a door that keep placing itself in front of the door in my future. I wanted to get a battering ram to knock this door down but I don't know what that battering ram is yet.

#sigh. the more I try to explain, the more insane I sound.