Y'know something, I don't care who I hurt, just as long as nobody stands in my way from achieving what I want most out of life, as long as it involves me reaching my goals.

I have had to fight like hell to get where I am at now.  I live in a rough-and-tumble neighborhood, where nightly shootings, violence, or fights are a common thing.  If you go out after six o'clock at night, you are literally putting your life in your own hands.

Me, I know how to handle myself.  Even at the age of sixteen, I know how to fight; when I do fight, I fight dirty.  Have to in order to survive this game called life.

I've had a hard life.  Mama left us when we were little kids, me and my two younger sisters, QuaNeesha (10) and Q'uirionka (8).  We now live with our grandmother in a bad part of town, in a brownstone tenement.  Rats and other creatures compete for the food that comes our way.  Drug dealings and fights color the night, wreck any chance of getting any sleep, so when I'm at school, I'm always falling asleep by the noontime hour.

When I got out, I carry a knife, in case anyone tries to attack me.  I've stabbed a few people already.  I'm not proud of that, as my granny tried to raise us right; but what is a kid to do when people threaten to beat him up, or worse?  I don't want to end up in the grave before I hit twenty; I have my whole life ahead of me!

People sometimes say I'm a bully.  I don't think I am that at all.  I'm just a kid who's had to fight to survive this mean game called life.  I've had to fight being picked on, try to stay out of the way of pickpockets, gangs, thugs, druggies, or (potential) murderers who might be lurking at any corner I happen to be at.  

I've had to personally take my granny to the hospital more than once when people accosted her.  It's a wonder they didn't kill her.  The last time some godd*** b****** tried to rob her, they beat the shit outta her, blacked both her eyes, gave her a nice goose-egg on her forehead, knocked her unconscious.  I had to be the one who found her; I honestly thought she was dead.  It scared the holy hell outta me.

She was only in the hospital overnight; she wasn't badly hurt, just shaken up bad.  Now she stays in the house, with my sisters, and when I'm not home, I'm worrying to death someone will get them.  I feel terrible for not being there all the time, but I have school, and I also work a few nights a week, trying to put food on the table, trying to pay the bills.  (I work as a pizza delivery boy.)

Since I've lived on the edge of potential disaster all my life I've learned to become street smart.  I know how to protect myself, how to avoid danger around every corner, and even defend myself, even to the point of using a knife or my fists in order to bring my point across.  Life for me is not easy; as I grow older, I'm afraid it's only going to get worse before it gets better.

Because of my broody nature, kids call me "Dangerous".  I think it's a suitable nickname because when it comes to life situations, I don't fool around.  I have to be ahead of the game, on alert standby, if I want to make it to seventeen--or beyond.

I will write in here another time.  I am not through with my story.  Hopefully things will get better for me or my family, but for now, I'm just learning how to survive yet another day.  Take care, so long for now!

~DaShawn ("Dangerous") Perkins, age 16.