I Surfed the Ocean of Despair

I was the kind of foster kid that would stand with you till the end if you were my friend.

Even if it meant standing up to someone bigger, we would both get beat up together.

Even if it meant going AWOL to see some family, I would go with you.

When family members let you down, I would be the one to say dude why do you think we’re here.

I was the kid that would introduce you to everyone when you were new.

I was the kid that would always show you around school.

I was also the kid that would incite a riot.

I was one of those kids that was never quiet.

I was one of those kids that had a knack for getting out of jams.

I was one of those kids that was never really sad.

I always figured out a way of having fun.

That’s what got me through the system.

One of my many placements was MacLaren Hall, Los Angeles county’s hell hole. I spent over a year there — and I still have no complaints.

I was in there when the staff could put their hands on you. Give you a little wall to wall counseling.

I saw my fair share of solitary, known as Room One, where you’re stripped down to your underwear with just a mat in an eight by eight room and the bright lights never go out.

My system ride was no picnic.

It was like a wave of violence and dysfunction in an ocean of despair.

I say keep your eyes open, don’t turn your back on that wave. It will crush you.

Paddle out to it and surf it.

Look at it as an adventure.

You’ll come out less beat up in the end.