Like every other human, she was. Although she believed everyone is different, and unique in their own way, she knew everyone was the same. She knew that everyone had bones, blood, a brain, and most importantly a heart. She knew everyone has had a past whether you were born two seconds ago or a hundred years ago. Those 2 seconds are your past, those 100 years were your past. She followed her heart, and she did what she loved. She didn't let anyone stop her from being herself. She was five years old being raped and tortured for several years, not knowing what was going on cause she was of such a young age to notice it. As she grew older, she started noticing what was going on and what was happening to her wasn't okay. She started coming down on herself, and allowing it to eat her alive. She started thinking more about it, and started staying up late and not sleeping because of all the thoughts. She started to hate her body, and hate herself. It was like a living hell. One day she just broke, she grabbed a blade and she pushed it down on her delicate skin, going deeper and deeper for about a half hour. She became relieved but in pain, it was like she was putting a cigarette to a person who is a addicted to nicotine's mouth… but it was also like falling out of a tree and breaking some bones in your body. Even though it made her feel good, it still killed her. It wasn't until the next week that she realized it's her addiction that she couldn't stop. She started wondering why her family seemed like they hated her, and why her brother was treated differently. Wondering why she was so depressed, and lonely. Bottling up all her feelings and most importantly her past. She was ashamed of herself, and one day it took her down. Hours before the next year in her kitchen standing near her family and friends, she took a knife and told everyone this was the end of her misery, and she is giving up. As she stood there with the knife she started walking with her friends trying to stop her, and her mother telling her family to call 911. Tears rolling down her face, and her friends. As they begged her to stop, she did. At that moment she noticed how much people cared for her, and didn't want to see her that way. Than her family and friends found out that she was depressed for years still not knowing she was raped. They just thought she was sad about herself. Months later her mom was yelling at her about a boy, so she ran to her grandmother. As she walked in the door at eleven o'clock at night with one bag, and more tears rolling down her face there was her grandmother and aunt sitting down waiting for her. She sat down unable to breathe trying to explain what happened, it just spilt out. There were the two most important people she loved in shock, thinking they will no longer love her although it felt like a weight was lifted off her shoulder she tried to take it back but she knew that you couldn't take back what you say, nobody could. They sat there with no idea what to do about her situation in such disbelief; they started to ask her things. They wanted to know what went on. That night she stayed up, and cried. Thinking…thinking…and thinking. Looking at herself in a mirror wanting to hit it, and wanting to smash the mirror. Looking at her scars, and imperfections. She sat herself down and started to doze off. Than it hit her, she opened her eyes and it wasn't until than she realized she shouldn't be ashamed of her past, and she shouldn't be unhappy with herself, and depressed, that her past is what is making her the person she is. It wasn't until than she realized her family, her friends, and strangers all have a past and a childhood that made them who they were today, and every single person on this Earth have a past, because whether you were born two seconds ago or 100 years ago those seconds were made up of memories and those memories are your past.