To the world, I am just a statistic. A percentage. I am in the five percent who have hazel eyes, the ninety percent that have brown hair and this essay is one out of the 164,777 you will read,and that's the simple truth. Statistics tell the truth, even when you wish they wouldn’t. Statistics didn’t lie when they said my dad was one in the 841,000 who had overdosed and died from illicit drug use. Statistics didn’t lie when they said there is no real cure to heal my mother’s drug addiction. I was born into a cycle of addiction, and according to statistics, it is nearly impossible to break out. I let that particular statistic define who I was for a very long time. After all, how can one defy facts that are written in books and have been studied by thousands of experts? My dad died. My dad, the person who was supposed to walk me down the aisle, take me to daddy daughter dances and the one who was supposed to always be there, vanished. Almost as if he never existed to begin with. The drug addict was no longer an addict, he was just dead. As for my mom, she was no help either. In and out of rehabs, jails and facilities. She was sober a couple of times, but if you’ve ever met an addict, you’ll know sobriety is never permanent, but the pain they leave behind is. My aunt and uncle quite literally saved me. They showed me what a family was. They gave me a home. They are proof that home isn't a place but in fact the people who love and support you. They wiped every tear away and put a bandaid on every scratch. It’s because of them I will never do drugs the way my mother and father did. I will not be in the local towns newspaper being labeled as the “biggest dealer” like my eldest brother. I will not be known as a thief like my middle brother who stole a car. I will not, and am not like this. Statistics may not lie but I realize not all of them have to be bad. One out of 135,000 children a year are adopted. I was lucky enough to be that one. Not only that but I was also lucky enough to be adopted by heroes- my aunt and uncle. What I went through has taught me the value of kindness and allowed me to view the world in a different way. Now, I am so thankful for all the little things in life that others might take for granted. According to statistics I am eight times more likely to become an addict. My parents were a part of these statistics; I won’t be.

To the world, I am just a statistic. A percentage. I am in the five percent who have hazel eyes, the ninety percent that have brown hair and this essay is one out of the 164,777 you will read,and that's the simple truth. Statistics tell the truth, even when you wish they wouldn’t. Statistics didn’t lie when they said my dad was one in the 841,000 who had overdosed and died from illicit drug use. Statistics didn’t lie when they said there is no real cure to heal my mother’s drug addiction. I was born into a cycle of addiction, and according to statistics, it is nearly impossible to break out. I let that particular statistic define who I was for a very long time. After all, how can one defy facts that are written in books and have been studied by thousands of experts? My dad died. My dad, the person who was supposed to walk me down the aisle, take me to daddy daughter dances and the one who was supposed to always be there, vanished. Almost as if he never existed to begin with. The drug addict was no longer an addict, he was just dead. As for my mom, she was no help either. In and out of rehabs, jails and facilities. She was sober a couple of times, but if you’ve ever met an addict, you’ll know sobriety is never permanent, but the pain they leave behind is. My aunt and uncle quite literally saved me. They showed me what a family was. They gave me a home. They are proof that home isn't a place but in fact the people who love and support you. They wiped every tear away and put a bandaid on every scratch. It’s because of them I will never do drugs the way my mother and father did. I will not be in the local towns newspaper being labeled as the “biggest dealer” like my eldest brother. I will not be known as a thief like my middle brother who stole a car. I will not, and am not like this. Statistics may not lie but I realize not all of them have to be bad. One out of 135,000 children a year are adopted. I was lucky enough to be that one. Not only that but I was also lucky enough to be adopted by heroes- my aunt and uncle. What I went through has taught me the value of kindness and allowed me to view the world in a different way. Now, I am so thankful for all the little things in life that others might take for granted. According to statistics I am eight times more likely to become an addict. My parents were a part of these statistics; I won’t be.

To the world, I am just a statistic. A percentage. I am in the five percent who have hazel eyes, the ninety percent that have brown hair and this essay is one out of the 164,777 you will read,and that's the simple truth. Statistics tell the truth, even when you wish they wouldn’t. Statistics didn’t lie when they said my dad was one in the 841,000 who had overdosed and died from illicit drug use. Statistics didn’t lie when they said there is no real cure to heal my mother’s drug addiction. I was born into a cycle of addiction, and according to statistics, it is nearly impossible to break out. I let that particular statistic define who I was for a very long time. After all, how can one defy facts that are written in books and have been studied by thousands of experts? My dad died. My dad, the person who was supposed to walk me down the aisle, take me to daddy daughter dances and the one who was supposed to always be there, vanished. Almost as if he never existed to begin with. The drug addict was no longer an addict, he was just dead. As for my mom, she was no help either. In and out of rehabs, jails and facilities. She was sober a couple of times, but if you’ve ever met an addict, you’ll know sobriety is never permanent, but the pain they leave behind is. My aunt and uncle quite literally saved me. They showed me what a family was. They gave me a home. They are proof that home isn't a place but in fact the people who love and support you. They wiped every tear away and put a bandaid on every scratch. It’s because of them I will never do drugs the way my mother and father did. I will not be in the local towns newspaper being labeled as the “biggest dealer” like my eldest brother. I will not be known as a thief like my middle brother who stole a car. I will not, and am not like this. Statistics may not lie but I realize not all of them have to be bad. One out of 135,000 children a year are adopted. I was lucky enough to be that one. Not only that but I was also lucky enough to be adopted by heroes- my aunt and uncle. What I went through has taught me the value of kindness and allowed me to view the world in a different way. Now, I am so thankful for all the little things in life that others might take for granted. According to statistics I am eight times more likely to become an addict. My parents were a part of these statistics; I won’t be.