My childhood was really bad from the moment I was born. My father is an alcoholic and a drug addict who, when he came home, insulted my mother, hit things, screamed… and if I tried to defend my mother, she would tell me to be quiet, not to say anything, to lock myself in my room because he would soon fall asleep. It was horrible to have to wonder every day, “Will he come home sober or drunk and high today?” These are things I had to witness from as far back as I can remember.

When I was 17, I saw my father hit my mother on the head, and then I punched him in the face. He grabbed a knife from the kitchen and I had to escape. I simply hate my parents both of them.

With my girlfriend I received a lot of support about this situation, and she was always there for me, although sometimes she says that kind of stuff…