Growing up in Trinidad and Tobago, I lived with my grandmother, grandfather, my brother, and finally my two cousins. Life wasn't complicated as it is now... But I guess a majority of others can say so. When I went to school down there, my grandfather would come get all of us and take us somewhere randomly. I can remember one event like it was yesterday; it was a Friday night and we went out to the beach to just chill out and spend quality time. On our way back, it was around nine and it was dark. I remember there being men that were waiting for him. he told me "Go inside, have a shower and go get ready for bed". It's crazy how I didn't feel any dangerous vibes coming from the men... I won't bare you with the ideals, but the men had stabbed my grandfather in several areas of his body, and had badly damaged his lungs. He was in the hospital for eight months until he died.
I guess that's the thing people don't truly see about me... It's that I carry that burden around with me everyday. I feel as if it was my fault that he had gotten hurt. If I was out there with him, they probably wouldn't have hurt him, and my grandmother wouldn't have gone into such a bad state of depression. My parents tell me that it's not my fault, but honestly you can't say such a thing unless you've been inside of my shoes.
