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  • Publicado : 19 de agosto de 2012
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The streets of Brisbane never shone the same way after that large storm, the tiny water pearls decorated the pavement all the way home, and I could swear it was my personal walk of shame. Howcome? Oh well, first I would have to tell my story, but would you care about? Or would you even listen?
I come from a low class home; I was raised mostly by my two brothers ignoring every day the factour parents left us years ago after a car accident. We knew we must find a way to survive into this world, my brothers a few years older than me had a part time job after school and they would protectme as the little sister I have always being. Despite the fact none of our family members such as uncles, aunts or even grandparents abandoned us, they didn’t want to take care of some kids soeventually they left us.
I can’t complain our lives were an eternal struggle, a fight we couldn’t give up. At the time we grew up, we proudly graduated from school; all alone? No, we had friends that helpedus go through many difficult situations, friends that were always aware of our situation always ready to help. We were always grateful with them, even though we couldn’t give something back as a“thank you” present they never asked for something back.
A few months later after the graduation ceremony I knew I couldn’t live this way forever, and that I had to move on, with or without someone’shelp. I had to find something to live for, something that could inspire me to find my own way. So, I left home.

It was me against this world, and my lack of money wouldn’t ever be a reason why Icouldn’t make it. In few words, I’m poor and nobody would believe the big and ambitious dreams of mine. I walked through every Brisbane Street, too many people, too many lights… too many fake andplastic beings.
56 blocks walked were enough to me to almost give up on every plan I made in my mind. But, 56 blocks walked were enough to me to find the one person that would help all the way through...
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