Family

So, living in a middle class family... it's pretty hard to meet up to their expectations. Everyone is either a cashier in an average supermarket trying to feed her babies, a physical therapist who have no dreams to have her own family rather than from where she started , a 19 year old boy who's working for himself only. I was so left out even when I was a child. Its devastating to lose your huge mansion, stable future and your parents at the same time. Living all with my siblings and an abusive guardian while my parents were working hard for us to be able to go to school... it was tough. Being the spoiled kid that I am, i wasnt satisfied of the life I was having at the moment. I wasnt just like my siblings who dreamt of one thing since they were children. I had one that I actually love...
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Dear mom, You hurt me. You hurt me in every possible way you could hurt someone. You hurt me when I was in elementary school when I'd see your car pulling away as the bus pulled up to our house. Not a single wave goodbye. You hurt me when I was in middle school when I'd see you cry everyday about being depressed because you were home so much. You wanted to leave while I was so happy to see you. You hurt me when I was in high school when you blamed me for all of our family issues. You hurt me again when you made me choose sides during you and dad's divorce. You hurt me everytime you didn't come home and dad would take his anger towards you out on me. You didn't protect me. You hurt me when you brought a new man into the house barely a month after dad moved out. You hurt me...
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To my dearest little sister, How I fucking hate you. The way you rummage through my room, taking the clothes that we assumably “share.” The way you use your “I’m the younger sister” card to weasle your way out of chores. The way you walk when you get irritated, stomping around as if to punch holes in the floorboards. The way demand to go to Target late at night and end up buying nothing. The way you talk back because you think you’re always right. But the thing is you’re not, and being a 22 months older and 22 months smarter, here’s my advice to you. I know that by this point you’re probably pissed that I am writing about you for my English class, but just shut up and let me explain. 1. Take your time. Remember when we were younger and we used to spend our summers at mom’s beauty...
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Dear Dad, Please hear me. I look at you in admiration. I see my dad who taught me how to ride a bike. I see my dad who used to make me cry out in laughter when he’d be a crazy driver or make that goofy laugh. I see my dad who guided me down the right path and who was so quick to reroute and forgive me when I strayed. I see my dad whose intelligence I could only strive for. That is what is so confusing to me; you gave me your smarts, you taught me the meaning of benevolence (both literally and practically), and you showed me that I can achieve anything. But to teach something, you must know it first yourself right? So how is my dad so blind and helpless to the man that has taken over? I look at that man who is awoken with alcohol with despise. I see a man who cares of no...
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To my ex best friend: I just want to say you are amazing and love every ounce of you and you should love every ounce of yourself too . I have been lucky to have a friend like you and click in some way that we did. I will always be here and I hope you know how much I do care about you . You are great and will do so. Do not let your family or new family tear you down. You are stronger than that . You are a little bird that needs to open her wings and fly so you can do what you need. You will be strong and happy some day. Family is forever so make the best of it. Do not put yourself in situations that put you down. Make yourself feel better. Find the good things in life and don’t let them slip. You are good. You will achieve all the things in life that you wish for. Don’t be afraid to...
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When I was 7, you told me, likely in a frustrated moment “you don’t need to tell me everything about your day, just give me the highlights.” And my fragile 7 year old self took that to heart. It also was said to me several more times over the years. But as I got older, you also told me “You never tell me anything. You keep your life such a secret.” How am I supposed to know what you want to hear when you told me throughout most of my life that you “wanted just the highlights” … makes total sense. It’s been almost one whole year since we have spoken. I’m sure you aren’t too phased by this though, as your mother had gone a year without speaking to you before. You’re sure I’ll come around, because you always did with your mother. But this is different. I’m no longer going to be the one...
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time. what is time? what isn't time? it is a series of days. a series of motions and emotions. a series of human healing and hurt. a series of oppurtunities. it is not easy. it is not gradual. it is not always kind. and it is not replaceable. speaking of, day by day, i find myself picking up the pieces of my shattered heart. some days, there is nothing there to find, except a cold, black, mutilated and confused emptiness. an emptiness derived solely from a boy, a lost boy, who i used to love with every single hidden corner of my fragile, untouched heart and soul. a boy who let me see light when there seemed to be none. a boy who protected and loved my daughter like she was his own. a boy who re-opened my heart. something that i never expected and furthermore, never believed that i was...
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Dear Dad, I have spent the best part of my life, the last 13 years to be exact, afraid. Afraid of receiving a phone call, a text message, of walking into work and finding out from a stranger (again) or scroll on my Facebook news feed and see a post alerting me to you having had another heart attack, or worse, your death. I couldn’t see a missed call from you on my phone screen without having a fully-fledged panic attack, no matter where I was or who I was with. It got to the point that anyone even mentioning your name sent my heart into overdrive. My mental and physical health, as I’m sure you are aware, have suffered greatly. I spent my teen and early adult years suffering with depression and anxiety, something that only during last year I had begun to recover from. On October 11th...
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Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I’m still not me. Yes, I can’t drink but I still can hang out. I still like to laugh and feel like part of the group. I still like to go shopping and out to dinner. I still like to joke around in group texts. I’m still me. I’m pregnant not dying. I can still do the same things I did before. Don’t exile me because you don’t understand.
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To the Turpin children: You may not know who I am, but I have been praying for you the moment I heard your names. The world may have moved on, but your story is just beginning. I know because I have been there. I have been in a place where I did not know how to move forward and begin my life much later than I should have. I know that this is just the beginning on a road to a happier and brighter future, and I know while some days may seem like a struggle to get through, each day brings with it a new sense of hope. It will slowly get easier, and one day without even knowing it, you will be the person you always wanted to be. I know there may be does you will be plagued with the question of “why?” Why did this happen? Why me? Why? And while you may never have the answers you...
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