christian likes to think the streets and his friend's homes that he hopped to raised him. his most fond memories were always outside of the place he called home with without the people he called mom and dad.

they didn't want him, that much was obvious.yet the young, foolish him didn't realise that. he constantly pushed his achievements, drawings, trophies at them in hopes of them telling him good job, patting his head, hell even a glance would be nice. instead of taking it as "they don't care", he took it as "i need to work harder, what i did isn't good enough"

middle school is when he had begun hanging out at in the streets. playing basketball in the neighborhood was where he met his friends who eventually let him crash at his place. why would he want to go home anyway? christian would come back to either silence or yelling. however, his parent's wasn't yelling out of worry, they were yelling out of anger that he no longer listened to their every word, that he no longer looked for their love and approval in the things he has done. when he drew, he no longer ran out to show them, when he got good grades, he didn't plaster it over the fringe in hopes of them seeing it. no, christian just kept it to himself, including all of the hurt, anger and disappointment.

only when he got into a fight on the street, or playing basketball did those feelings get to see the light.