Stupid, imbecilic, dumb, things that I have been called throughout my life by my mother. At first I didn’t think much of it, but as I got older, I started to react, The first time when it truly hurt I ask her not to call me that. I ask her not to call others that. The second, the third, the fourth and so on I didn’t pay attention again. Until, I had enough of the name calling, that was the day that I decided to move out of the house permanently. This was during my college break, where I went back to my house, some days were okay, some days whenever a whole show up where eh, but sometimes it was just too much for me to handle. I know I am not any of those words that she said and that she says them so that I can pay more attention to the things I do or say for example when I thought a zip-lock bag of cut up red meat was chorizo when it was sausage. I ran to my room slamming the door shut piss and that she called me those names, but piss because her cousin was always here when she calls me those things. I started balling my eyes out, I text one of the few friends that I have, and I started searching for jobs to the area where I was always at peace. There no turning back now, I know where I belong and it’s not here, this is no longer my home because words hurt to the point where they can drive a person away.