Where In The World?!

'Twas 1994 - I was born in China and my father died. My family was dirt poor. Our bathroom was somewhere outside, and our bed was anywhere we lied down. Immediately, I was weaned away from my mom so she can go to Korea to make money.
She came home one day. I didn't want her to leave without saying good-bye so I tied a string around my finger, and tied the other end to the door knob. I woke up the next morning - the string was cut and she was gone.
Ever since then, I had to touch my grandmother's face before falling asleep. Her wrinkled face was my lullaby. My fingers would venture around her face, feeling for a cold patch of wrinkles to rest on.
One day my grandmother died. I didn't cry. My mom took me away to live with her in Korea. My step-father was a dream come true. Flying chopsticks, winged edibles, catapulted tables, screaming, cursing vocal chords, drenched faces smacked around in a basement we called our home - he made all this possible and more. He taught me how to fold origami and how to catch dragonflies.
He took us to America. And aliens were everywhere. Yellow hair, blue eyes, double-eyelids, pointy nose and babblings I could not understand.
Clunky green doors opened to a stereo apartment. My first home. A bed, a kitchen, a toilet and a television set - things I've never had before.
One day, throwing the table and smacking my mother around was not enough. One day, he snapped. Police, blood splatter, and a knife. He tried to kill her.
The government relocated us to a shelter. I wasn't allowed to talk about it, or else. I wanted out of that place ASAP. I felt like a prisoner.
We moved out of that place and she found someone else. Then he molested me and we moved again.
With my hair half shaved, I sashayed down the halls of Glastonbury High School. Eyebrow, nose, lip, neck - it was all pierced. Drugs, alcohol, sex, eating disorders and self mutilation became the epicenter of my being.
Death constantly ran through my mind, tirelessly. Sleeping and dreaming of escaping somewhere unthinkable was my closest encounter with death. I loved it.
The intricate details of where I'm from, hemmed, hammered into my being, is forever apart of me. From the semen of my deceased father, to the arms of my deceased grandmother in China, to the rule of my mother in Korea, hell was sown into the first 20 years of my life. But I know where I belong - in heaven, with God, at home, somewhere out of this world.