My Genes

...and Me.

The dance would be violent... Dramatic.. Lots of pulling and tearing and shaking... That would be my mother being raped. And then a baby, being torn, and her fighting to keep it.. The music would be loud and dramatic, but there would be no voices.. No singing.. Just silence.. There would be masked figures.. On one side of the room.. Lots of unknowns.. People hiding in the shadows.. On the other side of the room. Family.. Hiding and "protecting" the baby.. Me.. The baby would be loved.. Then there would be a wedding and the baby would get a daddy.. And there would be singing and happy dances.. And then several brothers would be born for the baby to play with, lots of blue and the baby would grow and the brothers would grow and they would play.. And sing and dances some more happy dances.. The daddy would get really happy.. And he would play with the neighbourhood children and make them laugh along with his children.. The purple cloudy smoke would make him so happy.. The music would be bright and happy and crazy, like an acid trip.. But then the daddy would get sad and mad and angry and sick.. And the music would turn dark and the cloud would turn black.. And a dark shadow would be cast over the family.. And the neighbourhood children would run away from the funny man who made them laugh.. But the children would be stuck.. They would be given lots of toys and gifts to keep them happy, as men and women would come and go from their house, and dance away with little packages of their own purple and pink and green hazy smoke clouds.. But they would come back and bring dark black and brown and grey smoke clouds with them and leave them in the house with the children.. This dance routine continues, it gets old and boring and the baby.. Now a girl.. Would twirl around the young brothers, along with her mother, while the daddy spins like crazy, in another room, and then again, crawl around on the floor in agony and then rolls around in his hazy smoke and comes up dancing again.. The dance would go on like this for years.. Until the mummy spins off into the other room with the daddy and twirls and jumps and bounds around in her own cloud of pretty pink smoke.. And the girl twirls around her brothers alone, like a big girl.. And then, when she was old enough, she would join the happy, crazy, sad, mad and angry dance... Spinning off into that crazy room with her mummy and daddy.. Leaving the brothers to twirl alone.. And they became mean and nasty.. Until one day she would dance off by herself, spiralling out of control, and curling up alone with a family of her own to pass the hazy smoke dance on to.. Only, she was determined that she would change the inheritance.. And choreograph a dance of her own for them, a really happy dance, leaving the fake happy smoke behind for good. 

...hmm, so I've no idea what that was, but that's how the "dance" looks in my head. 

After writing this, I think I focused of raising more than genetics. I learned what I lived, but I hope to change it. 

I hope to break free of the negative influences on my life, but I don't know if I can.. I think that I attempted to, when I left England, but I just ran from my problems, I didnt solve them.. Now, I must solve them. This is the first step in truly breaking free.