African Immigration Narrative

These walls have heard my cries more than anyone else will and well these mirrors have seen me judge every feature of myself more than anyone else. Always told myself around age 15 that I was stuck in a 25 year old's body and in some ways I was. From the depression to the anxiety, I made it all on my own. Being the child of an African immigrant is not exactly the easiest life to live, but we all go through adversities and like the saying goes it doesn’t matter how you start but how you finish. I finished as a whole new person, a person most will never know. Hearing the car parking the footsteps getting louder and being too scared to face it so I ran to my room. From the arguing to the screams the good to the bad, it made me who I am today.
I however, was very sad. My parent separated after my 2 year in the U.S. When you come from happiness and suddenly it is striped from you reality becomes harsh. Reality is harsh. I knew I wanted to become better, I knew I did not want to feel like that anymore but who was I to turn to for help. I am the only child. I have no one. My friends, yes they are friends but not once did I feel comfortable to tell them "Oh yeah my parents fought last night and I just do not know what to do. I felt like I would be judge so I kept quiet but inside I knew I wanted to become