Fighting

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There was so much fighting in that house it was a lot to take. And then I’d start to notice patterns of the way my parents would talk about their parents and it was the first sign of the cycle beginning. And I could never figure out what it was over. It would just start and explode with stones at the glass house and no one realized it. But my brother and I were called unfortunate names and at least for me, I took them with me until a couple of years ago when I finally somehow let it go. I knew I resented them growing up for certain things. Like, she shouldn’t have come to me to ask whether or not I felt they should get a divorce. Huh? That’s your question? Shit. “I don’t know,” I told her. That’s not between my mom and dad, that’s between your husband and you. But I could never get that question out of my mind. What DO I think? The fighting really had gotten that bad. There was always name calling to each other and to my brother and I. “How could you be SO stupid?” was one. “You’re helpless.” It was to the point that I was convinced I was stupid. Then when I was in high school both of them told me they had something to tell me when I got older. I had a feeling I knew what it was but it wasn’t my place yet. And it shouldn’t have been my place to choose who I was going to live with. They shouldn’t have declared divorce on my birthday. It got to the point where on one hand things were a great time, in a great family. And there were times where I felt like a little drill seargant that knew when to talk and when to shut the hell up. Suddenly, I became her shoulder to cry on. It was a time I was so thankful to have my brother, though. Then, right as the depression was hitting, him and I got close but then pulled apart. The apart world, is where we’ve been ever since. Sometimes you don’t realize how much you miss someone until you realize you need the chance you once had to miss them in the first place. But I just want to scream that I’m not myself. To wait for me and when I come back you’ll see how different I can be when I’m normal again. I’m always impulsive, I’m sleepy and I think things that are harsher than what they should be. There’s things about depression that doesn’t go in a handbook. No one talks about the fact that you’re so lost that even when you have everything, it can feel like nothing. And my nothing has become my everything.

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