My parents divorced when I was 11. Up until then, my life was pretty decent. We lived in a big house and had a lot of money. After the divorce, both of my parents bought two smaller, crappier houses. The original custody was that I would go home to my dad's on Monday, my mom's on Tuesday and Wednesday, back to my dad's on Thursday, and I would switch off houses every weekend. It was terrible. I couldn't take it after a while so I switched to a different schedule - I would be at one house one week and the other house for the next week. This still sucked though and made me upset. There were so many problems that remained.
My father didn't and still doesn't know how to clean, cook, do laundry, or take care of a house at all. So everything is a gross mess, I eat oily, greasy junk (usually chicken and chinese food every day) he shrinks all my clothes in the laundry, and on top of the awful situation inside the house, the house itself is tiny - it's so small that I'm embarrassed to have friends over, and I've only had friends over maybe in three or four different occasions in the last five years. Also, he's a chainsmoker so the house always smells like smoke and it's just gross. I have asthma too so it messes up my breathing. There's so much more - things are always falling apart, we haven't the blankets or anything since we moved in, half of the lightbulbs are busted, almost all of the medicine has expired years ago, there aren't any nail-cutting scissors so I have to cut my nails with actual scissors, and my window is broken so I'm cold in the winter.
A few years ago he got a girlfriend and started ignoring me for a while. He would go out to be with her, leaving me alone, and come back at 1 in the morning. He told us he had no money but he did anything for her and took her places and took her on vacation. This led to us having a very shaky relationship. One time, we were fighting, and I don't remember what it was about but I said "this is why you're divorced!" And he yelled back at me "No, the reason why I'm divorced is because your mother was screwing other men!" It took me a while for my brain to process that information, but when it did, I started crying and ran away from home. I went to a local park that I like but my dad kept calling me and told me if I didn't come back, he'd call the cops to find me, so eventually he called them and now I have some kind of mark on my police record for running away from home. This whole ordeal led to me being very depressed for a while and it really showed in my grades in school. My father has gotten better recently and I get along with him but everything about the house remains - and recently, since he can't afford an office anymore, he moved it to our living room so every day during the summer I feel awkward confined in my room and I hear them talking about work all day long. The scars of what he told me about my mother are still apparent within me.
My mother is a whole different story. Her house is also embarrassingly messy and small, but it's a palace to me compared to my father's house. I never have friends over there either but I like it better because it isn't smokey and there isn't most of the crap that's at my father's. The problem is that she is a nasty, evil person. She always tells me that I ruin her life, how she hates my father and wouldn't care if he died, how I will become a loser just like my father, how I should feel guilty for ruining her life, how she can't handle my stupid depression, how I was born a nasty child, and how she's already given up on me. Sometimes she is like that but sometimes she is totally nice - that's the weird part. She's really abnormally moody. She torments me, telling me that I'm evil and worthless, and knows exactly how to provoke me to make me angry and explosive. In the end, I'm the one who ends up freaking out, while she sits their crying as if she is the victim. The sad part is that she really believes that it's me ruining her life, and not vice versa.
So no matter whose house I'm at, I'm never quite happy. But the "suckiness" of my life doesn't stop there. I have a lot of problems with myself. For a few years, I had terrible acne - this alone is enough to make a kid really upset. I don't have a good body. I'm really bad at school and find it hard to concentrate. Since my parents, especially my mom, are always saying that "we're poor" and stuff like that, they can never help me with money. I feel like I have nothing going for me. I think this story (which is only a brief summary of the bad stuff of my life) is the story of a really pitiful life. My parents tell me to suck it up because I'm only making myself depressed and I don't have it too bad. I tell them that maybe the question isn't even what's bad about my life - it's "what's good?" Or, "what do I have to live for?" At this point, I don't even know. | |
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