Meet me and my life

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Yes, this is my story. My life story.

Submitted: February 25, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: February 25, 2012




Purple, blue, green. The zebra patterns on my socks held my attention. Hmm… They were more like tiger stripes actually. My room is filthy. Well, it looks filthy but in reality it’s just my clothes lying on the floor and the empty glass of Pepsi at my side. I am going to refill it, but not until she goes to bed. I don’t want the possibility of her trying to talk to me again; that never ends well. I can hear her now, sitting in the bathroom smoking a cigarette and playing her game on her phone. She keeps yelling at my baby brother for presumably trying to get into the toilet again. Huh. It has grown quiet, which quite unnerves me. She could be reading my Facebook messages as we speak, which is especially not good seeing as I have called her every name in the book to my close friend. It was not out of bad reason though; she was being truly unfair and selfish. I digress. There is no point of getting into the point of why we fought; it doesn’t matter. Not to mention the strong points of the argument are slipping from my mind as I write this. I can’t remember a word she said only that she was screaming at me and that she called me a bitch more than a few times. Ah, I can’t wait until I move out on my own. I would have wanted to stay if she didn’t spend every two seconds either screaming at me or trying to get me to scam people out of money. It’s going to suck that I won’t see my baby brother grow up but it doesn’t really make a difference seeing as if I stay here longer than necessary I’ll end up killing myself then end up not seeing him, period. She’s laughing now. She’s brushed our argument off already and has already begun acting normal. I don’t understand how she can walk into my room, look at my levelly, even smile and try to start a conversation with me when my eyes are bright red and puffy and the tears on my cheeks having not even dried up yet. I had a hard enough time nodding in reply but she seems to find it pretty easy to just go on as normal. Man, her heart must be colder than ice, or she truly does hate me. Both conclusions are pretty reasonable. I really have to pee but she is still sitting in the bathroom. The only time I’ll be able to use the bathroom is when she goes to bed so I hope it’s going to be an early night for her or else I’m certain I’ll get a bladder infection. Oh my, for once I wish the weekend would end so I could go to school. I just want to be away from her, all she does is make me want to commit suicide and that is not an exaggeration. I really do want to walk into the kitchen, stand on my tippy toes, and snatch the orange bottle of my mothers’ medication and then throw them into my right hand, tip my head back and toss them all in at once. But don’t tell anyone. They’ll just throw me in an insane asylum and I don’t think they let you drink Pepsi or green monsters there.

Hmm. Maybe I should tell you a little bit about myself because I probably do seem like an insane emo child right now, don’t I? Well, let us start at the beginning. Up until I was sometime between seven to ten years old I was a spoiled little rich girl. My father would go on ‘business’ trips all the time to go and fuck his secret lover and my mother would sit at home and work. My oldest sister had run away and lived with my grandmother and my other sister just played with me occasionally. My brother was always with his friends. Your usual middle class house. And then, like all children’s stories, my parents split up. Me, being the faithful daughter I am, went with my mother as did my non-runaway sister. My brother, however, remained with my father. I didn’t see him very often but I didn’t really care because I was young. I miss him all the time now; just thinking about him brings tears to my eyes.

My mother is a manic depressant, has arthritis, a bad back, and a severe gambling addiction. This equals no job and negative money. Statistically, I was below the poverty line. My dad would get me all the stuff I wanted like a Nintendo DS or a Playstation two, but it would never last long. It might have been there for a day before it can be bought at your local pawn shop. Even when I was a child my mom got me to make up lies to my father to scam money or make an excuse as of why I don’t have my new toy he bought me. I got used to it though. It was my life, it happened on a daily bases. I rarely went to school, maybe a day in the span of two weeks.

This is how I lived for a while until one day, a little before Christmas, the big change in my life happened. I was still really young and believed in Santa Claus and the easter bunny… You know, the works. I was talking to my mom, sitting at the kitchen table when I randomly stopped and grabbed her hand. I looked up to her and said softly; ‘Mommy, I know we don’t have much money but that’s okay. You don’t have to get me anything for Christmas because Santa will get me presents.’ I smiled at her but the look on her face confused me. Her expression had dropped and was completely emotionless. She didn’t look at me, she just stood up and left the room silently and a moment later I heard the engine rev and she drove out of the driveway.

I didn’t know what had happened that day until a week or so later when the police showed up at my doorstep. It turned out she had gone to Shoppers Drug Mart, filled a cart with gifts and just walked out of the store. She was caught, of course, and assigned a court date but she didn’t show, which was why the police were at my house. They took my mother to the court and I stayed home. I later on found out she was let off scotch free because my mother retold what I had said to her at the kitchen table. Apparently that was the saddest thing the judge had ever heard so she let my mom free.

This was not the end of it though, actually it got much worse. She began to steal to satisfy her gambling addiction. By the end of it she had gone to court several times and is band from Wal-Mart and Zellers. A couple years later my sister got her first boyfriend. He moved in with us and lived with us for a month or two before my mother was informed that he had a record of child molestation. She then kicked him out, as any reasonable mother would. The next day I woke up to find my sisters bed empty. I didn’t see her for another year. Sadly, I saw her in bad circumstances. The social services took me away and forced me to live with my father. My father is rarely home and I lived with him for a month or two before my sister moved in.

Her boyfriend was thrown in jail for five months because he had stolen a van, so she was homeless. The state of which I found her was shocking. She was taking several hard drugs a day, was literally never sober and was constantly throwing parties at my house because my dad was out on vacation with his blond twenty year old bimbo fiancé. My sister up until her first boyfriend was the most goody two shoes person you could ever meet. She made me cry every night; she was no longer my big sister, my best friend. She was a typical teen.

Whilst this was all happening, my mother couldn’t keep a place so she became homeless. She lived in her van in the parking lot next to my house. I visited her daily, brought her breakfast lunch and supper. Hey, it’s not like my dad would notice. He was out in the Dominican Republic on vacation… Again.

A little while later I received the most shocking news of my life. My mother was pregnant. I was always the youngest so this would be my first younger sibling. I was extremely excited. My mother was going to get an abortion but luckily I have pretty good skills at convincing people so she didn’t. Oh yeah, I forgot to say. My eldest sister had, had a baby girl a year before, and a month before I was taken a away her baby girl was taken away. My aunt had called child’s services on my sister because she went drinking on the weekends and she got custody of her daughter. Recently, she has gotten full custody and is now legally her mother. I fucking hate her guts.

I digress.

Now, where was I? Oh yes, my new baby brother. Yeah, she had a baby boy and two months before his wonderful (*cough* disgusting *cough*) birth I was allowed to live with my mother again. We were living in a vacant duplex illegally. Yeah, no one knew we lived there. We lived there up until my baby brother was born and then we moved into the basement of an old couple. My mother is of course a single mother and has many health issues so I was the prime caretaker. I took care of him every day, went to school even less. A little while later my druggy sister moved in with us, with company. Her homosexual friend and his boyfriend moved in with us as well and a group of people we always staying the nights. She had parties regularly, which wouldn’t be bad if I wasn’t the only one to clean up the puke and force the naked people hiding because they were having a trip out of my bathroom.

We were soon evicted so we all moved in with my eldest sister in a two bedroom apartment the size of a classroom. Can you imagine? Both of my sisters and their boyfriends, my mother and my baby brother? Yeah. I was living the life. We lived there for a year when the father of my baby brother came back to Moncton. He slowly visited us more and more often and soon enough we were living in an apartment with him. Just him, my mother, my brother and me. And the apartment was fairly large. This is getting pretty close to the present so I’m almost done, don’t worry. My eldest sister had another baby girl, by the way and is determined not to lose her.

Oh yes. I forgot to mention Sam. My best friend of seven years, my ONLY friend. She left me for her boyfriend, but I’m glad. As soon as we were no longer friends I go to school nearly every day, have more than enough friends, and true friends at that and for once am truly happy. But I can’t say I don’t miss her.  I do. I always wish I had her to talk to, but I can’t. I deal with that every day, even though I have so many close friends that want to comfort me.

Okay, so a couple weeks ago I went to court for the first time with my mother. She was going for the charge of theft at both Zellers and Wal-Mart. I warn you, never get in trouble. Court is boring as hell. She just got rescheduled until June after four hours of waiting. Then, my eldest sister, being as smart as she is, skipped court because she was afraid. Which is ridiculous because they already said she was getting off with no charges.

Well, a week later she was pulled over for her out of date stickers and was immediately arrested for her warrant. My mother and I rushed over as soon as possible and spoke with the lawyer before court. They lawyer told us that they were planning on putting my eldest sister away to prison. This obviously upset us. We desperately asked if there was anything she could do and she simply shook her head. ‘I can try.’ Was all she said.

Bam. Bam. Bam. My eldest sister was the last to be prosecuted so I watched as one by one people were thrown in jail by the crude, harsh judge. With every sentence my heart broke a little more. Finally it came to her. There was fighting, debating when our lawyer stood up. ‘You have to act differently because she is an abnormal case.’ She said which completely confused me until it was later on explained that by that she means my eldest sister was Indian. The judge did a double take of her and then sighed.

‘Fine. One month of house arrest, four months of conditional arrest and eighteen months of probation.’ He said and I felt like cheering, crying and hugging our lawyer at the same time.

That day we received some shocking news. My little brothers father was moving back to Montreal and we had eighteen days to find a new place. Yeah. The worst part was that he could just up and leave his son, he disgusts me. He has left yesterday but we convinced the landlord to let us stay here so we may find an apartment. So, I’m living life by the moment, dealing with one problem at a time and spending my days in the local market helping my mother get food for my brother and me. There. You know my life story. Well, most of it. There are times that I’ll never forget, like my mother reaching for my throat but me moving just in time so all she did was rip my necklace off. Or her telling my she wished I never existed so I spent the night in the local park in only pajama pants and a tank top. Oh and it was November. I also remember my mother losing her temper and bashing my head against the wall ten times before my dog bit her hand, causing her to stop.

There still is a lot about me you don’t know, but at least you know the gist. Random quirks about me like I growl like a dog when I’m angry or I prefer being called weird. And I have to fight tears when the song ‘Hey there delilah’ comes on because that’s the name of the niece that was taken away or that I hate watching romantics around people and am quite proud of my geeky obsession with Lord of the Rings. But, you will know this is time as it seems I will begin posting regularly about how life goes in my world, the world of the girl who cannot afford lunch but shows up to school in top class outfits.

© Copyright 2018 kiaramaz. All rights reserved.

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