You're not god, don't judge

May 10, 2012
By Anonymous

My story starts when I was in 3rd grade. I was naivee to the world. Everything was flowers and fairies. That is, until I was told, only of the more horrific lines I will ever remember, “Your mom has a year to live.” At an age so small, you cannot even comprehend what that means. My mom went downhill fast. I had to say my thanks to her, and wish her good bye that year. Though, that was not when she died.
Next year, in fourth grade, I was at the parent teacher conferences and my dad was talking to my teacher about something. I would later know that he was telling her about out “situation”. I never did smile that year. Towards the middle of the year, we had to write essays for the state. I got a choice I didn’t like, and then all my emotions that I was hiding hit me like a bullet to the head. I started crying. My teacher said, “Oh, it happened? I’m so sorry.” I didn’t understand, I was only sad about the paper, but she was talking about my mom.
Fifth grade, my mom was still alive, just barely. She mainly just stayed in bed, unless dad wanted to watch TV with her, then he would pick her up and move her to the living room. He had me and my sister take care of her also. I hated it. I wasn’t strong enough to pick her up, and I didn’t want to change her diaper. One thing that I now regret is that I treated her like dirt. I was angry, sad, depressed, and it was because of her.

Sixth grade, this year her time came, and it wasn’t peaceful. We had hospice come from the hospital and help us twice a week. This wasn’t enough, we needed more help then that, but we couldn’t afford for them to come everyday, so we just suffered in silence. It was almost spring break and I knew her time was soon, we all knew.

On March 27th, my brother came to visit and he took me and his girlfriend snow boarding. It was the most fun I had in a while. The next day, my dad left to go to the store. I told him that he needs to get out more, since he only spent his time with mom, so he went to get bananas. He was so happy to get out. I was playing on Club Penguin, on my dads’ computer, when everything stopped. It felt like the world was in slow motion. Her breathing stopped. I didn’t leave the computer, even tthoughknew that she was dead. I couldn’t bare it, the thought. I just sat there. Didn’t move, didn’t play. I was the only person in the house, and it was quiet.

About twenty minuets later my dad came home. All I remember is how happy he was that he got out. Then he noticed the silence, and basically dropped everything and went into their room. All I could hear was whispers, indicating to me that she was in fact dead. He came out a little later and told me to say my prayers. I went in and sat beside her dead lifeless body. This is what I said “I am sorry for being so mean, and for everything I have done. I hope you are h-happy where you are. You’re in a better place now…I hope you are happy. I hope you are happy. I’m really sorry for everything, please forgive me god.”

Later the funeral home truck came by and wisped her body away. I only remember the small plaid blanket and a frail body underneath. They took her body to a hospital. They were studying the affects of Alzheimer’s, and were trying to find a cure. They made a pamphlet about my mom, and the affects.

I remember going to the church that my uncle works at. We had to figure out a plan for the funeral. I remember one conversation, I blocked out the rest. “Your mom was an angel, and you are one too” he said. Then my sister rudely interrupted by saying “Oh no, she’s not perfect.”

The rest was a blur. I choose not to remember much after that. Now, you see, my mom wasn’t the only person in my family that was sick. Most of my family is dead or dying. My sister has Multiple Sclerosis. My dad, Parkinson’s. He had brain surgery, and that is the only reason why he is alive today. Though, he won’t last long, and with his retirement, we only have enough money to live for the next 10 years. I don’t know what we will do after that. I don’t like saying this. I don’t want people to feel sorry for me.

I have plans for the future, but I don’t know how many of those I can actually carry out with our “situation”. Me and my dad are living off of nickels and dimes. I feel bad when ever I ask for money. I wanted to go to the private school in the area, but I would never want to put my dad through that type of hard-ship.

One hundred and twenty four thousand dollars, that’s how much college costs. With my luck, I will pay it all on my own, for years. But, I can’t bring my self to leave in three years, if I know my dad will be alone.

Now you know all of this. And now you can’t judge me. At school…people judge me. My friends even emit to it. “I only kind of hate you for your boob,” my best friend said. She was talking about my looks. I am busty, and I hate to admit it. If I had a choice, I would chop them off in seconds. Guy’s only like me for my body, and they never get to know me. The first time anyone has called me pretty was a week ago, and I have never met him. My life brings me hard-ship, and school I am given judgment, and inside? I'm ugly.

No one knows how sad I am. I promised my friend, that everyday I will smile at least once and pretend to be happy even if I’m not. Even if I feel lonely and dead, I’ll still smile, to make other people happy, because I would never want someone as sad as me.

I am not,


Or mean,

So please,

Don’t judge me.

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