Dad would go away for long periods of time, when he was gone I would receive letters, with envelopes of a rough orange, from a California Correctional Institute. Even an occasional phone call where I’d have to press 5 to confirm I wanted this collected call, where I was able to talk to him for ten minutes when the most we could go was fifteen.

Dad missed a lot of birthdays, holidays, why was he so angry?

I don’t think Mom is okay, she’s been drinking a lot of the funny smelling liquid until she’d pass out on the couch.

I felt alone, I felt sad, I wanted parents. I wanted a dad to spin me around, I wanted a mom who’d braid my hair. Why was that so much to ask for? They were hardly there, it seemed like, was it my fault?

Sister says my dad hates her, I don’t understand why. I love my sister, I love my dad, why don’t they love each other as I love them?

My brothers are distant, I never talked to them for more than ten minutes, one younger and one older.

I don’t feel like I belong there, I don’t feel like they would care if I ran away.

Dad, why did you hit Mom? Why did you punch her? Why did you choke her? Why did you make her bleed? Dad, why are the police here? Dad, why don’t you listen to me?

Mom, why can’t I make you proud? You’ve said it so many times, but the way your eyes grow dull when you say you are has put the idea that you’re lying to me.

Sister, do you hate me? Is it because I’m my father’s daughter? Sister, if you loved me like you said you do, the pain wouldn’t flash on your face, you wouldn’t turn away so fast after the words have slipped through your lips.

Brothers, why don’t you talk to me? I haven’t heard your voices in too long, and we see each other often.

Family, why do you treat me as a burden? Then wonder why I’m in my room all the time?