My mother and I lived in an apartment, where I would decorate the walls with overlapping drawings and posters of luxury cars. The complex housed mostly poor families, but I never felt any shame in not having money. My mother instilled in me a strong pride of self. The only thing that I ever wanted to change was the roaches. They were everywhere. They were there in my drawers, in the wicker furniture, in the cabinets. In fact, it got to the point where I would shake them out of my cereal boxes and not even be fazed. I’d just pour the good pieces into a bowl and go watch morning cartoons.