Introduction pt. 1

So since everybody I know is getting their blog on, I figured "what the hell," why not join in on all the fun?

We shall start this grand adventure into self expression with a long winded multiple part introduction about myself. My name is Brandon Townsend; I was born to a heroin addict mother and an alcoholic father in the year of 1981. My first day home with momma dearest was spent in a run-down hotel where I was attacked and damn near ate alive by a wharf-rat (thank God for ball bats). By day three, mom had come to the conclusion that it was hard to raise a baby and sell your ass on the side on Lexington Ave. so I was shipped to my great grandmothers house. I would live there until I was 11 years old. Right before my 12th birthday the Department of Social Services decided that my elderly grandmother was no longer fit to raise me so I was moved to a home that they found more "suitable." This home ended up being a dairy farm in Leicester, North Carolina that felt the best way to bring up young men was by subjecting them to manual labor. Nothing like waking up at 4 o'clock in the morning to drive in the cattle, milk the cattle, water them, and then head to school! After the school day it was rinse and repeat the morning activities and head to bed around 7:00 pm. Throw in a good day of tobacco farming here and there and that about covered my life at the ol' farm. I guess around six months of the green acre life was all I could take because I was on the phone with my friends at DSS daily, trying to get the fuck out dodge.

Finally God had answered my prayers (or so I thought) and I was sent to a brand new group home in Fletcher, NC. What I didn't know at the time was not every kid that becomes a ward of the state does so because of their parents. In fact, some kids are in DSS custody because they are, for lack of better words, wacko. I had my first experience with such a fellow at the Fletcher group home who's name was Michael. And for the first year of my stay he would make life a living hell. You see, Michael had problems. He had problems keeping his hands to himself. He loved to bully those who were smaller than him (me included). The attacks were relentless, finally coming to a head in a YMCA bathroom; where Michael decided to make me his girlfriend. I really don't like going into details about the situation, but I imagine you can draw your own conclusion as to what happened. (To this day I will not step foot into a public shower house). This act of aggression was the final straw for me; I planned my revenge for days. Finally one rainy night I caught Michael coming up the stairs and kindly pushed him back down them. I was hoping to break his neck, although unfortunately all he got was a broken arm. After that night I never had much problems with him, or anybody else for that matter. I spent two more years at the Fletcher home, til I was kindly asked to leave for breaking a kids collar bone in a game of tag - total accident but it is what it is I guess.

Next up for me was a home for troubled youth in Oteen. Basically this was a temporary home - they sent kids here that nobody else wanted. Not much to tell about this one - spent three months there, got in trouble for taking a shower with a girl named Nikki and her friend, and was kindly showed the door. At this point no homes where taking me.

I had built quite the reputation after the Michael incident for being a troubled youth, and no matter what I did I couldn't shake that image. Fact is: I really didn't want to. I was hurting inside. I was constantly harboring feelings of uselessness and rejection, and if I had to hurt, then I wanted the world to hurt with me.

Well I think I'll pause and start again in part 2 of Brandon Vs B: A Jackal and Hyde Tell.