In my 17 years of existence, I have learned so much. My parents come from a broken family, but they aren’t even looking at each other. They are together just for me and mine. . . We are happy when we do. . . My dad is now the hate of my brother, and I’m not sure why. My dad does everything for me, but I hate him. I feel like I’m always stuck in middle.
I love my mother and my father. . . They would be my first choice. My heart is broken by little things. My dad was sleeping on the coach when I walked to the kitchen. He paid for the roof. My mum was strong-willed and a beautiful woman. . . But she is a gambler. She gambled away some of her money. It left us financially insecure. Both of my parents have different views about life. . . My dad is a saver. My dad is a saver. He works hard for the future. However, my mum is more relaxed and lets the money flow to her. . . Working too hard like my father can cause you to be in a bad place where you just do work and get nothing. I sometimes feel sad for my dad when I see him. I tell him that although you work, it’s not like you’re working to pay your debts.
My mum gambles, but she won’t admit to it. Sometimes she will leave her house and return hours later. We are sure where she was but her constant recollection is that she was at auntie’s. . . yeah right.
My brother is a quiet boy. He is often referred to as a gentleman by people. However, I view him as an asshole. He listens only to my mom. . . He ignores me and my father. He doesn’t love me, but I do love him. This has not been said to me though.
Sometimes, I just want to cry. My family has been broken. . . It seems that I’m trying repair a broken mirror. . . It’s better to just leave it there. It’s better to leave it there than try and put it together. I am a fighter and never lose hope. I smile because I am happy. My dad makes me sad when I’m sad. Although I try to get out of the house as often as possible, I still feel guilty. One day I will do something great and get a good job. Maybe then I can go home and throw money in the air. . . Perhaps my mum could just gamble away the money she has, and stop fighting over it.
I am stuck in between. My mum isn’t employed, my father has a job to make ends meet, and my brother is 18. But he doesn’t really know much. . . He sits at home and works on the computer. Me? Me? I’m seventeen-years-old with low self-esteem. I am not confident. . . But, I always smile.
Sometimes it is more fun to smile than to have people ask you questions. Although I have family, friends and others around me, I feel isolated. I’m not open to others. . . There is not one soul. . . Because I am too proud. . . Knowing that people know my situation makes it feel weak. . . It is something I carry with me. . . Smile every day . . My pillow is awash with tears at night. People do say I’m a beautiful girl . . . I am always given compliments. . . .guys around me . . But I don’t accept compliments. . . They are not true. I believe that years seven and eight were the most difficult in my life. I was a very chubby girl. In summer, I saw girls wearing t-shirts and singles taking their bathers to the beaches. . . But me? I would wear thick, woolen jumpers on 40-degree days. . . To make sure people didn’t notice how ‘fat I was’. I was never hot. . . It was so hot that I almost felt like I was going into cardiac arrest. I eventually got so sick of it..one morning, I came home at school and wrapped my body in sticky tape. Six jumpers were worn on a hot day. I promised myself that I wouldn’t leave my room until it was full. . . I’m sorry.
Year ten arrived, and I was convinced by my friends to straighten my hair and wear a skirt with a tee-shirt. . . This was a far cry from my usual hairstyle of having it tied in a bun and wearing my three-quarters shorts and woolen jumper. From that year onwards, I was considered a pretty girl. . . However, I was still skeptical. . . because I felt the old me. This made me feel like I was wearing a mask. My exterior looked fine, but my reflection in the mirror was not. My eyes said a completely different story. . . One of a fat girl without a happy family. I sit here at the computer and write a long story..while feeling ugly. . . While my dad sleeps on the coach, he is getting enough rest before he gets to work. My mum, who is still a gambler, plus my brother of 18 years, who is still clueless. Don’t be afraid of me. . . I’ll do it.
My family is the most important thing in my life. . . If they asked me, I would give my life to them. Although my family is very hardened, we still love one another. I know it is possible to love someone even if they fight. . . No one is the same as anyone else’s story. No one and no one can ever understand my pain. They are my family. . . I just wanted to be bold enough just to LEAVE. . . So I can get away. . . But I can’t, and I won’t leave until I am happy.
