As another bank statement slipped under my antique brown door, my body filled with dread. I sat petrified at my desk as incessant replays of an unwanted memory mindlessly returned to my consciousness. I went back to when I was twelve years old and had a debt of two thousand five hundred dollars with three days to pay it back. The terror of what would happen if failure prevailed filled my mind. The familiar sound of his voice. The familiar sound of broken bones. As I pondered my dilemma, my mind turned to unacceptable methods like prostitution and drug dealing. Maybe even suicide. Ultimately, I made the heartbreaking decision to pawn the few assets I had at a pawn shop. My shaking body staggered to the tattered phone book. As I searched for the list of pawn shops, the page seemed to instantly flip to the pawn shops section. It lit me up with “quick money”, “instant $”, “televisions, jewelry”. Everything seemed so simple. My heart began to calm down and I felt some tension leave my body. This answered all my problems. And that's how I started. I started carrying everything that was worth anything. I took all my jewelry of sentimental value, my beloved iPod, my cell phone, my computer and my only means of transportation, a bicycle, and headed to "Fast Cash Loanz" in Onehunga on a dark evening of December. As I walked into the store, I had never felt more alone, more vulnerable in my life. Here I was, in a pawn shop, doing something a twelve year old should never have to do. I entered this place, a world lit by laptop screens and high-definition televisions; they looked at me instead of at the sun. My eyelids twitched as my eyes tried to adjust to this surreal place. The objects were cradled protectively in the middle of the paper......in fact, the feathers were bloody and messy. She too had to fight for the right to live. I gently stroked her wing as she let out a soft coo before flying away. With the weight of the world weighing more than my possessions on my back and just under 48 hours until the deadline, I prepared myself once again for the most humiliating and degrading experience of my life. Life is a game of cards, and some of the cards I dealt with during my childhood were unbearable, but after being so low and living on the streets, the winds of change began to blow, when I opened the bank statement. , and breathed a big sigh of relief as a pleasant quantity in my scale looked back at me. I no longer had a hole in my heart that kept growing every time I sold a piece of my life. Overcoming famine was no longer the only reason I had to live. I didn't break.