Memoir

September 1, 2012
By , Coquitlam, Canada
I didn't mean too. I mean, I meant too, but my brain just kind of forgot to react to the fact that I was going to do something that would get me in trouble. It happens all the time, and makes her mad.
I thought this time I could handle it though, but I guess not. She pushed me against the wall, scratching the top of my forehead, grazing my cheek.
"Don't you know that you aren't allowed to talk back already?"
I froze. I don't usually say anything when she gets like this, then it just gets worse. She smashed my head backwards then, and I could feel a bump forming. It hurt. The door slammed. I went to bed hungry that night, her, "Mom" made that the punishment for this time.
"Could be worse", I thought to myself, "no cold shower today!"


~Present~


I stared at the page, trying to make the words smoosh themselves together, so I could read it, but it kept getting out of focus.
"So frustrating, I'm 14, and still can't make sense of this crap," I mumble out loud, talking to myself. Giving up, I let out a sigh and lay back into my pink, stained, but downy pillow. I would never understand why my parents adopted me if they didn't even like me. I look back and change the page to see a picture of my birth Mom. The only resemblance is our smile, right at the corners of my mouth, they curl up just the same. I wonder if my children will inherit this feature as well. Hopefully not, I think it makes me look crazy, just like her.
I hear a loud knock at my door.
"Who is it?" I yell.
"Tommy, Mom wants you to do your chores."
"OK, one sec."
I begrudgingly get out of bed and stumble over the books all over the floor on my way out. Oh dear, time for the daily chores. I walk out to the kitchen to see my Mom sitting at the table, staring blankly at the wall. Like usual. "What do you want me to do today, Mom?" She snaps back into reality realizing I'm standing there. Her face immediately turns sour.
"Vacuum the living room, dining room, clean your room, unload the dish washer, sweep the hallway, and then check your chores off of the list." She turns away and resumes staring at the wall.
She must be mad about yesterday I guess to myself, but you never can tell with her. Time to get to it.


Everyday, it's pretty much the same thing. I wake up, eat breakfast, do my homework, eat lunch, do my chores, read a book, and then go to sleep. Over, and over, and over. Some times I spice it up, read a different book, maybe even throw in some Corn Pops. But it hurts. Inside, I can't get over it, it's empty but I need something to fill the cracks in my heart, but they keep breaking, and I have no band-aids to tape it up. It's all my fault too, I am not the kid my parents wanted when they adopted me, not pretty, skinny, athletic or talented or anything. I can never make them proud. They've even said it, I'm not going to amount to anything but my mother. Forgotten in any good way, taken by the past, remembered for ugliness and mental illness. That will be me.
Some nights, instead of reading before bed, I cry softly. It feels good. I don't often acknowledge that I feel. "See, I tell myself, I can do something different sometimes." And it's comforting.


~3 years before~


His hands kept waving it front of my face, as he shouted "You suck, you're a girl, gross!!" Every time his fingers got to close to my eyes, I flinched. This of course made him laugh hysterically. Just my luck, my parents were home so I couldn't push him away from me. "Anthony, please stop."
"HAHA, no you're just a stupid little girl, you can't make me!"
And I couldn't. Didn't want a bloody nose like yesterday. Mom says it's not Dad's fault he's like this. His Daddy was really mean to him, and whipped him with his belt whenever he was mad and hurt him a lot. It's my fault when I make him mad too, I never listen and I'm just not smart enough. I'm lucky I am home schooled, I would never make it at public school. Mom says since I can't finish my math charts, I would fail everything. It's true, math is really hard for me, and I get the hard kind because Mom says I need a challenge. In fact, I hope I never go to public school. I would never get any friends, everyone hated me at Pre-school and plus my face is ugly...


~Present~


Harry Potter is my favorite book series. He's just like me. His parents hid him under the stairs, and look at him now, he's a wizard, and he even defeated Voldemort. I wish he was real, everything about him makes him my idol. I have every book, and I once found the first edition of The Philosophers Stone for only fifty cents at a garage sale! I like to re-read the books, it's very meditative. I can ignore the screaming of my little brothers, and even the painful arguing my my parents. They want to get rid of me, I just know it. They did it to Anthony and I'm next. They say they don't have enough time to raise Tommy and Marcus, their own children. I'm probably going back into foster care. I know if try to be a good kid, they'll let me stay, but sometimes I don't want to stay. I want to have new clothes sometimes, my friends are allowed to shop at the mall and so is Anthony (He went back into foster care). Value Village isn't terrible, but the underwear is a little gross. But if I was good, then they would buy me new things, and that way I could stay. I try to be a good person like my brothers, but it doesn't come to me as easy. They always do all their chores and homework, but sometimes I can't sweep the hallway that well, and I get grounded. It's so difficult being a teenager.


Looking ahead, sometimes I try to imagine a bright future for myself. It's beautiful. I want to be either a writer or a doctor. Go to post-secondary school, graduate with honors, and find a nice boyfriend. I will get married, have kids, and a golden retriever, named spike. We will live in a medium sized house, not too nice, but just right. Worn in to the perfect degree, with space enough for a backyard and a swing set. My children will go off to school, get married, and then have children of their own, and follow in my footsteps. I will live healthy, and be proud that I proved my parents wrong. I won't need them to make me feel worthy of living, but instead, live for myself. I will do everything and be free.


But that's only in my imagination... In reality, I remember, I will go no where, stuck in this no where home, with these no where people, and I will be drained. My life will be drained out of me, I will become what they said I would be. That is my future, and I won't bother to try and change it.





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