Drugs, crying, yelling, and hiding, a few of the many things that make up who I am. I can see everything now my Mom sitting on her old, stained bed with her bong between her legs, she’s weighing out how much Meth, coke, and weed she got this time.
My Father hiding behind our small, torn, smelly couch as the police come in looking for him. Mother trying to find another place to hide her drugs, the vacuum? What about the toilet? Or under all of the dirty clothes?
Even when it was time to sleep it never ended. The smell of drugs, alcohol, and cigarettes surround me, as I‘m sleeping in my mothers bed.
I try to keep my eyes closed as the yelling starts. Then my arms wrap around myself to keep myself from crying. When the yelling starts to die down and everyone goes home I know what’s coming.
The bed starts to rock and the smell of sweat overwhelms me as I hear my parents having sex next to me. I want to run but I’m too scared I just move as close to the wall as I can and think of anything to forget what’s going on. I’m tired of it all.
Tired of having to steal so my parents can get their hit, their drag, their alcohol and cigarettes. Exhausted of having to dive in dumpsters for cans, a daily routine. Hiding behind bushes in the backyards of neighbors so we won’t get caught. My mom whispers “Jackie you’re the smallest, you wont get caught go get those cans.” or “ Jackie you’re the lightest let me just lift you over the fence, you can find a way out.” or “Jackie no one is in the house go through that open window and let us in at the door”.
It ended when I started middle school. I finally moved in with my sweet, loving, grandma. Always cooking hot, fresh meals, a clean house, no drugs or yelling, and thankfully no sex. No matter what, I’m glad my life turned out so bad in the beginning. Today I am a strong individual, getting great grades, and doing things on my own. My life has turned me into who I want to be, different from my parents, more like my grandmother, my own individual and that is what matters.