when I was possibly 9, I took a knife from the knife drawer and sat back at the dining table. My laptop was filled with dms from my friends, begging for me to not do it. I had recently told them I was gonna do it. Stab myself. As I put the knife tip onto my stomach, my mom walked in. She went in for water and didn’t notice the knife on me. After she left, I put the knife back.
when I was 7 maybe, I was in the car with my older cousin and her boyfriend. They drive fast and so I gotten used to it. We were on the highway when there was a car next to us. That car kept speeding and swerving towards us. My cousins boyfriend drove faster and went ahead, until the person caugth onto us. We were all the way on the right side and so the guy swerved, causing us to nearly crash. I never told anyone of this. And, my cousin not her boyfriend asked if I was okay.
I asked my mom if I could buy denny’s for all 3 of us. Her, my stepdad, and me. She agreed as we were at the eye doctor. We went straight there and I took a nap in the car. Once I got out, I apparently was told my stepdad I had an “attitude look” on me. Even though, I was just tired. He got pissed off at me and so did my mom. For the rest of the day everyone screamed at me. And what broke me was the sentence that will never make me truly forgive her. “You broke my fucking family, you disgrace.” And, just like that. She has never said sorry. I was 11.
I was 8, at the Philippines, when I found the truth out. My biological dad and my mother split when I was 3, so I got used to my stepdad for my whole life. But, I had asked my mom what happened with them two. She told me as she was unpacking our stuff. He had choked her , as my 3 year old eyes saw, screaming at him to let go. He had called me ugly at the first glimpse of me. He had so much new bitches each night. He never cared for me. He never loved me. He never cooked for me. He was never fucking here. But, funny part too. My mom and stepdad weren’t either.
I was 10 when my brother was born. 10 when I didn’t know I’d be his fucking mom. My mother had taken the excuse, “oh I just gave birth, let me rest,” to her advantage on a lot of things. Even simple, reaching, items. My brother was born and I was there. Once he hit 1 and a half, I was meant to take care of him. We lived in a 1 apartment room at the time. Meaning, I had no privacy. I had to take care of him when I was studying for a big test, after school qhen I arrived, when I ate. Especially now. We live in a 2 story apartment and I still must take care of him. He’s 3 and I’m 13. I lost my childhood for him. I risked it for him. Nobody truly knows him as well as I do. I know his favorite show, his favorite clothes, his favorite activities, the things he does to show he doesnt like the food, the things he does to show he likes the food. And yet, they still say I don’t have a hard life. I get called fucking spoiled for just wanting one book. And I make sure it’s under 10$. But no. I get called spoiled and difficult to take care of. Yet, I took most care of him for 90% of his life. But yeah. I don’t know him that well huh?
