Prologue:

She hands me a composition notebook and exits the room. I take the pen off the coffee table and begin to write.

To make it clear I'm only writing this stupid journal thing because you said I had to. I still don't like the idea of writing my little life story out so I can come to a realization or you can figure out what my issues are, or come from or whatever, it seems kinda pathetic. I guess that's what my life is like though, pathetic, maybe a little confusing, definitely messed up. So I guess I should start writing for real now because I have decided to let you read this journal thing and I can't leave you with nothing to read. So yeah here I go.
Oh and this is going to be the sparknotes version. No offense, I still don't trust you.
I guess I should start from the beginning. I was born in the back of a taxi cab on October 29 in Boston. That's also the day my mom died. There was car accident. She went into an early labor because of it and boom, I was born right then and there. A few hours after arriving in the hospital she died. You're probably thinking, oh that's when you were put in the system, but it wasn't. I went into the system when I was 4. I was left at a police station by my dad and step mom, well kind of. They payed some teenager to walk me in with a bag of stuff and some legal papers. I was kinda old for those safe-haven laws so they kinda didn't know what do with me, until they read some papers and stuff that my dad had left. He wanted me to go into the foster care system. He had it all planned out for me, he even had made me a bank account which I guess was kinda nice and he typed up some papers about general facts about myself. The police tried to locate who he was to charge him with child abandonment, but they only came up with dead end after dead end. Luckily, one of the cops at the station was a Foster parent. His wife had always wanted to be one, but she died of cancer so he became one for her. It was only supposed to be temporary apparently, but I stayed with him for 5 years and then he was shot in the line of duty. That was when I was put into the system for first time. I went to a small family, it only lasted 8 months because apparently I was to high maintenance. Same happened with the next family except they claimed their son felt uncomfortable and stressed because I was the same age, but so much smarter then him and stuff. It only was for 3 months and the whole family were idiots. Then, I went to this ok family with a teenage boy and 2 toddlers all in the system. I didn't like it there in the end, so when we went on a trip to California I kinda just ranaway before my flight home. I was almost 13 then. I made a family on the streets and yeah I was drug runner, but I actually had people who cared about me. Funny thing is nobody ever came looking for me, I was just a ghost. After my friend got caught shoplifting while I was with him, I was found out and put back into the system. I went to this crap old ladies house who was actually a drunk with her husband. After about a month I just went back to the streets. I stayed there until last year. Some bad crap went down and I found myself in juvie at the ripe old age of 15. It's been a year and now I'm out. People keep telling me I'm have to change my life around. So I don't really have a choice but to to try. Tomorrow I'm going to a new foster home. My new social worker, Bill, says they are the best people on earth. I'll believe it when I see it.
That's my life story Susan. Lets see what issues you can get from that.
And stop calling me Cordelia, that name is crap.
-Cori Maxwell

I get up from the couch and place the composition notebook on the table and leave the room. Therapy sucks.

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