My name is [NAVN A] and I am 25 years old. I live in New York, but in the streets. Now you maybe think that it’s bad living on the street. But actually it isn’t that bad, because you get used to it. I also have a daughter, [NAVN B], and she is 11 years old. I was pregnant with her when I was 15 years old, and lived home with my mom and dad.
We’ll get back to that later.
When I raised [NAVN B], her dad and I got divorced when she was only 10 months old. One year later my dad died of cancer. My mom got really depressed and started to take some pills. In the end she got really sick, because of the pills. Every day she had a headache, and she had pain in her stomach and bag. She couldn’t walk, and got depressed. 2 years after she got sick, she died, and I was on my own. I didn’t know what to do with [NAVN B]. I could not pay her food, her clothes and her bills. It was too much for me, and I didn’t have any contact to her dad. Then I decided to live on the street, and here we are now.
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