I was born in Alabama. Grew up in Chicago. And then everywhere—actually kept moving around. From five months old, all the way up until I was eight, I was raised in the hospital. When I was born, five months later, or within five months of me being born, I got sick. It was to the point where I ended up having to be on life support. Got a liver transplant—still have scarring and everything. I look at it every day. From five months old, all the way up until I was eight, I was laying in a hospital bed, either on life support or being resuscitated the whole entire time in and out of surgery. So I didn't learn to talk until I was seven. I didn't know how to walk till I was eight. 

So seven became my very favorite number. That number meant so much that I use it with everything. And it's because of the fact that for eight years straight I kept there through the worst of all situations that any parent or child should ever go through. Now I am for the third year in a row, or for the third time, fighting cancer again. For the third time! My body's not doing so good. Because of chemo and radiation. I've knocked off a good percentage of my lifespan. Bone cancer. So every day is painful. Yeah, I don't take pain medicine because of my liver transplant. So I just deal with the pain and a lot of pain every day, all day, every day. But I'm not going to lay up in a hospital bed. I'd rather do something or be productive with the time that I do have. 

My dream job that I got to work for a while was being a paramedic. I got to do that. My purpose is being a blessing and helpful to others. The only reason why I'm out here. I'm in housing, but I choose to be outside. Because I'd rather give all the homeless in my community some bit of faith or hope that even when times get rough—times even get rough in a stable household—it's all up to you to make things happen differently. I have a saying that I've been saying since I was eight years old, which is another reason why I love the number eight: Nobody else can do it for you. Other people can possibly guide you the right way. But if you follow your gut, your heart, you’ll be okay. You don't take the window of opportunity that’s offered to you. 

I'm tired of hospitals. I'd rather be sick outside than sick inside of a hospital, which is supposed to be a clean place—a place that is supposed to help you. A place that is supposed to care about you. The last hospital I went to was Hollywood, Presbyterian. Three stars on their rating. That's how I feel about the hospital. That's how bad they treated me as a patient. They admitted me not knowing what they were doing. And I told them, and they deliberately did things that they shouldn't have. They didn't even clean my room. Nothing. I literally changed my bedsheets, everything. I'm hooked to an IV! I should not be doing this. Like, I've had hospitals do very, very unspeakable things. To me, growing up. The worst, I think, was probably waking up in the middle of surgery. Yeah, I woke up in the middle of surgery and looked at the doctor and everything. I was like fourteen or fifteen and I woke up, looked at everybody while they're doing it. I'm just laying my head down. That's not supposed to happen. But the worst part of my whole entire life was getting my liver transplant. I remember all the pain and everything I went through as a baby. From the time I got my liver transplant, which was at five months old. I should not remember that far. Egleston Children's Hospital in Atlanta, Georgia. I remember this—by helicopter. I remember everything. I remember them cutting me open. I remember them stitching me up. 

I don't look like the average person that should be out. At least on the street. Well, that's because of the way I was raised. I raised myself from thirteen. All the way up until now, I raised myself. There should not be a reason why I'm eight years old after getting out of the hospital, and have only been with my parents for five years. No. No reason for that. But that's how it happened. I don't want to spend my next birthday either in a hospital beat up or dead or in jail. I only came here because of the fact that I lost my daughter and baby mama, and my baby mama's boyfriend in a car accident. December 21, 2018. And it killed every single one. And the family they ran into head-on as well.

So it's like I'm to the point where as much as I want to quit my job or just want to give up, I ain’t gonna do that. But at the same time, I'm tired of dealing with the same old mode every single year. The only happiness I have, ever since I've played around here, is helping other people. This is the one state I can actually say I've literally, physically given somebody a piece of clothing off my back. Literally, I had one person that made that first-time experience so valid for me. I gave a girl my hoodie, my brand-spanking-new hoodie. I just got it. And I saw her late at night. She was walking by herself, but it was cold. Sure enough, I was wearing a long-sleeve. It was a light long-sleeve, but it was still long sleeves and I had a hoodie on. So I said, “Here, take this”. She said no. I said, “Before you walk away from me, you're going to take this hoodie—whatever you do with it is all up to you.” I gave it to her. She didn't take it off. Again. I have not seen her since that day. 

That's where I find being happy. I live by a certain set of laws and they're not regular laws—you just see day-to-day people living by certain rules and regulations that everybody knows. But reading in between those lines is what I do. And what you don't see the average person doing. Like, for me, that's how it is. I talk to so many people, and they question me, like, my age and what am I doing out here? Exactly what I'm doing right now. Talking. Helping. If I can.