“I left my home in Tuscon, Arizona, on Mother’s day 2015, and I haven’t heard from my daughter since, she’s 5 now. She was 4 then. Her mother, I didn’t say anything to piss her off but as it turns out, hindsight. Anyway, I didn’t tell anybody. I told only one person, and then I got on my car, $35, and two-quarter tank of Gas. I sold a lot of my guitars. Most of them, and the rest for my gig were stolen once I got there. I need a guitar to do my gig.

I went up early to establish a paternity plan for my daughter. I’m trying to survive, and my addiction get the best of me. I was spinning my wheels. I came $20 short in ordering a birth certificate for her to make it all true. So I could file. I couldn’t, and I don’t know why. On her birthday, I went to Portland, Oregon, and I almost killed my self three times overdosing, by material of choice: meth, heroin. I played guitar at certain places. I cried because I couldn’t be in two places at once, and her mother wouldn’t let me see her on her birthday anyway. I built her two guitars, and decorating them with butterfly, and flower, and stuff.

I lost everything. Everything is stolen from me. These all are my clothes. These are all that I got here. I went over there to Mary’s. I asked her. I was hungry. I haven’t eaten anything yet. I have the opportunity to PCC or whatever it is to get my ID back. My father wouldn’t help me get back. He said, ‘You need to stay where you are, you’re not well yet.’ ‘What do you mean, Dad?’

I was stabbed by a gang member about two months ago. Here, I got the staple to prove it. I took the other one out when I was in jail. It has tattoo on it now. And I was beat up by a security guard in a hospital. I still suffer from my experiences, because it is still too raw. He handcuffed me, kicked, and beat the shit out of me for alcohols. And then he called the cops. I got charged for battery. I went to jail from my Dad’s birthday, on December 12th to 23rd, I got the Christmas gift. I was supposed to get out sometimes at the end of year. And I’ve been abusing myself, and not giving a f*ck ever since. I’ve got all these song I wrote. The songs I have in my head that I wrote for my daughter.

One day I hope. I’m trying to get better, to get a job, to have a new start, but when you have the life I have, when you fall so hard you know, it’s very difficult. I’ll do my best. I love my daughter. I’ll do it for her.”