P
PShermanWallaby
Growing up was hard. My parents were constantly fighting, splitting, and getting back together. I was the youngest of three and it felt my parents didn’t want me or like I was just going to follow in my oldest siblings footsteps. They got bad into drugs and eventually went no contact with the family. My middle sibling always seemed like they never did any wrong. I remember my mom asking me why I couldn’t just be more like them. I don’t know why I couldn’t, I tried to be but I was so angry all the time.
Eventually I started smoking pot and drinking a little with my friends. They understood me, they helped me feel like I actually belonged somewhere. I hated home because I was constantly yelled at and they understood that.
Finally my parents kicked me out at fifteen to live with an uncle who beat me. I tried to tell them what was happening but they didn’t care because I deserved whatever I was getting. I ran away from there at sixteen and that’s when my mom sent me into a camp. I can’t talk about that year though. It’s too hard.
I know I wasn’t a perfect kid but did I really deserve to not be loved or wanted?
Eventually I started smoking pot and drinking a little with my friends. They understood me, they helped me feel like I actually belonged somewhere. I hated home because I was constantly yelled at and they understood that.
Finally my parents kicked me out at fifteen to live with an uncle who beat me. I tried to tell them what was happening but they didn’t care because I deserved whatever I was getting. I ran away from there at sixteen and that’s when my mom sent me into a camp. I can’t talk about that year though. It’s too hard.
I know I wasn’t a perfect kid but did I really deserve to not be loved or wanted?