"Slangin dope is the best job a teenager could have."
             Some people deem me crazy for the actions that I have done in the past. Just because I tried to run over and kill a cop with his own vehicle. My actions are just a mere reflection of what I think of today's society as being the normal teenager with an American dream. . Being deported from Australia, now having to live in America's typical "Ghetto" really had a hard impact on my life.
             My family and I were deported from Australia when I was three. Because my mother was the head of a major drug cartel, Smuggling drugs from Australia to Indonesia. I never got to meet my father because he was killed in a train accident before I was born. My stepsister was killed in a bombing in Northern Ireland. She was on a plane coming home to the United States when it exploded on the runway. My biological brother Jason , still lives in Australia running a pub he opened last year. The only family member I have in the States is my mother.
             When we came to America, we lived in New York for three months. We lived in a one-bedroom apartment on the East Side of down town New York. After being evicted for not paying our rent, due to my mothers drug addiction. We bought a Van and lived in it for two years moving from place to place. Mostly along the West Coast until I was eight. We packed up the van and went to Cleveland, because my mom got a job working in scrap metal factory. Things started to look up for us. I got a job mowing peoples lawns that lived next to the factory. I made a lot of money because I was home schooled, and I could work all day.
             When I was eleven we saved up enough money to buy a small house across from the factory. I quit mowing lawns and started to sell pot for my neighbor who was a drug dealer. I started to use drugs on a regular basis. One night I was with my friend and we were tripping on mushrooms when a police officer drove bye us and I spit on his windsh...