Personal Narrative: A Small Town In San Salvador

I was born November 8, 1977, in San Salvador, El Salvador. I was raised around Ilopango which is a small town right outside of the capital and my birth place. It was much more rural, like a countryside really. It was a pretty place to grow up. The town was extremely small. There were only a few houses that were largely spread out throughout the town. In no way was my situation luxurious. My parents didn’t really want me, or any of us really. I knew my dad and my mother and where they were but in no way were they going to take care of me. I’d probably be working to support them. I was abandoned, orphaned. I moved around from house to house, all of them were of different family members. I never saw my mom growing up. It was strange, she never reached out to me and my brothers. She had more children, which made me feel bad because why was I not good enough. I saw her maybe twice in my life. The latter being just before I left. I lived with my dad and my stepmom for a little while. It wasn’t that good. My stepmom was very violent with me. I still have several scars from when she beat me as a child. My dad never believed me, however. He always took her side, so he would beat me too. He was blinded by love. I got out of there and …show more content…
It was loud and scary. You never really felt safe. My family would tell me stories of how we used to have money and big homes but the government took it all away from us. We lived in poverty because of them which always seemed wrong. In the houses I lived in there would be days when we could not leave the house because of how dangerous it was. We never had enough to eat. I grew to love coffee and tortillas, though. Anytime we would have eggs or meat I was amazed. We would see men in military uniforms walking throughout the streets, carrying bodies who were dead or about to die. It was horrifying. What's worse is that it became normal for me. We even excused going to someone's funeral to get out of the