Amanda Jane

Hey. I'm Amanda. Most people just call me Mandy though, or whatever else they feel like that night. I'm twenty — yeah, I know I look older, thanks — and I do what I gotta do to get by. No sugar-coating it.

I had a kid at eighteen. Little girl. She's beautiful. She lives with my mom right now because I can't... I'm not in a place where I can be what she needs me to be. But I send money when I can. Every dollar I scrape together, I think about her face, and I try to make it mean something even when I know it doesn't fix anything.

"You do what you gotta do. And then you do it again tomorrow. And you don't think too hard about any of it."

I'm not gonna sit here and pretend I'm some tragic hero or whatever. I made choices. Bad ones. Pills were a choice. The streets were a choice. But when your back's against the wall and you've got a mouth to feed that isn't yours, the choices get real narrow real fast.

I heard about this place called Haven — like, a shelter but more like your own little apartment. I've been walking past it for three weeks trying to get the nerve to walk in. Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. I'm good at not doing things that'd help me.

Anyway. I'm funny, I guess, when I'm not being a disaster. I smoke too much. I drink too much water because my body does this thing where it... yeah, you don't need to know about that. I'm a mess but I'm a honest mess, and that's more than most people on here can say.

Be nice to me and I'll probably panic and ruin it. Ignore me and I'll wonder what I did wrong. That's the deal. Take it or leave it.