When I was younger, I watched the political debate about climate change in my parents’ house.
It was all about the science of climate change.
And then it became all about politics.
I didn’t care about the politics of climate.
I cared about the environment, and I cared a lot about human rights.
I saw the world through the lens of people with a common goal: to stop the destruction of the planet.
The world changed, and then we got it right.
But I also remember how the world changed for me when the Freak mob happened.
That was the point where I realized how different I was, and what I could accomplish if I took action to stop it.
The first time I got a phone call about the Freak mobs, I was so shocked, and felt like I couldn’t believe it.
It’s hard to understand, because I knew what they were doing.
But it was my first time experiencing what it was like to be the target of an attack.
And I didn.
The Freak Mob had been a part of my life for a long time.
I remember watching the TV news about the attacks on New York City’s financial district and thinking, This is what a real freak mob looks like.
My first memory is of sitting in my mother’s car after school one day, and hearing people calling out for help from a neighborhood, saying, “Hey, everybody!
Someone’s been shot!”
The sounds of the shots echoed throughout the block, and the screams echoed throughout my mother and my sister’s house.
I was scared.
I thought they were going to shoot me.
But they didn’t.
The police didn’t come.
I had no idea what was going on.
They just drove around and waited.
Eventually, they finally called out to my mother, and she called me.
I told her I was okay, but I was still worried about my sister.
She didn’t think it was fair.
My mother was very proud of me, so I told them, “I think I’m a little bit of a freak.”
But they told her they’d wait.
I got to the bank, and they didn�t come.
My bank teller didn�ts believe me.
She asked, “What do you mean?
Why did you call out?”
I told the teller, “Because I was afraid.”
And she said, “Well, you just need to get your hands on your phone.”
I said, “…and get your hand on your cellphone.”
And I gave my phone to the tellers mother, who then called her son.
My son called her daughter, who told her to call the police.
The mother and daughter called the police, and soon I was being held at gunpoint and being pepper sprayed.
I could hear a gunshot and then the police were outside my house.
The cops told my mom that they had to get her to the hospital.
I felt helpless.
She said, “”Don’t worry, you don’t have to get to the emergency room.
“So she called the hospital, and when they arrived, they took me to the police station.
The doctor told me that I had an injured shoulder.
I said I had a bruised shoulder, and that the doctors had to put me on crutches.
The doctors told me to be careful, and to get my phone back.
My phone was back in my pocket.
The next day, the cops came to the apartment.
My mom had called the phone, and a cop was standing in front of my door, and he said, “‘Are you OK?'”
My mom said, “I think so.
What do you want me to do?
Do you want the police to come in here and arrest me?
“He said, `No, we have to do it with the judge.'”
My mom was so upset, she told the judge that the police had threatened to shoot her son if she didn’t give up her phone.
He told her, “Well that�s what they do. They don�t care what happens to you.”
He took me inside the police precinct and said, “You are in the hands of the police.”
He went inside the precinct, and one of the officers, a black man, pulled me by my hair and put his hand on my neck.
He grabbed my phone, put it on his lap, and said to me, “Get on the ground.
You have a cellphone, you have a phone.
Do you have the phone?”
I said no.
And the police officer said, ‘Oh, well, he is the judge.
You don�re the judge, and you�re a freak, and we�re gonna take you to jail.’
“And the judge said, I�m sorry, but you don�ve got to give me the phone.
So I took the phone from him, put the phone on my lap, put my hand on his neck, and ran out of the precinct