I would love to tell you the wonderful story of a young girl who has a wonderful family, wonderful friends, and just a wonderful life in general. But then, I could never relate to that story, so instead I will tell you the very true story of an extremely unlucky girl.

For some reason I am stuck in a rut… This time I don't feel like explaining my life story. I should just be like the others, and explain the death of a beloved pet, but then again I’m not like the others, I don't care what those people say. I’m not gonna pretend to be ordinary. So this is it, this is me.
At age four I realized the things that my parents did behind the bathroom doors wasn't what I considered good. I acknowledged in my four year old brain that my mother screaming wasn’t a good sign. My parents were never there, they were there physically but their eyes were always glazed over staring at random places on the ceiling mumbling about nonsense, twitching and repeating the steps until bed.
At age six, my parents actions were considered what you say ”normal” to me, I was used to them. I was also used to the bruises imprinted on my skin over and over again payed by the ruthless hands of both my mom and dad. I learned that even whispering about the pain that they inflicted on me only made the next beating worse. They weren't always like that though, only when they were higher than a kite in the sky were they really not who they normally are. Most of the time they were always starving for the pain of the needle against their skin, itching for the hysteria so they wouldn't have to live in fear of reality, they chose to be oblivious and ignore their problems.
To me, they were, and still are, cowards.
At age eight I was placed in my first foster home. I never understood the ways of the family I lived with then, because they were so different than the previous family. I was forced to call these strangers “mom” and “dad”. I lived with this family with my brother for about a month. After that they they kicked me out and kept my brother. I was a bit too strange for them.
Thats when I lived with Paula, a motherly old woman in search of being loved, in her cramped, dim and damp trailer, where I lived for two weeks. Crying myself to sleep because I didn't have my brother there to comfort me. I felt so alone even with all the foster children without him by my side.
After three weeks I reunited with my brother in Ashton, where we resumed our quiet, slowly breaking lives with an old German woman named Melitta and her husband Lyle. We lived there for two years, both of us growing closer and closer together, ignoring the constant flow of letters and cards from our mother asking for forgiveness saying that one day we would be together again, and happy.
I never believed her.
We both expected letters from our father, but just like when we lived with him, he was a ghost, his silence and ignorance ringing so loud in our thoughts and feelings, leaving us wondering if there was even a God up above, and if there was, why wasn’t he helping us? We were out of his life and thats what he wanted the whole time, we were accidents, never meant to be.
But still, life went on, we slowly taped back our lives like broken pieces of a mirror hung on the wall reflecting back at us that there was still hope left. And we became stronger somehow, we were eternally bonded. Our past glued us together, the string of tragedies sticking us together like Elmer’s glue. We relied on each other and guided each other, we both knew we were different than the others, ignoring the small things that held the others back, and anticipating the good things, that others thought weren't good enough for them.
Years passed by, living with Melitta and Lyle, and time seemed to heal the wounds that ripped their ways into me and my brothers life.
We started to smile again.
We were so used to the loving family we were with that we were heedless of what was happening around us, we didn't notice the signs.
Once again, our bad luck reigned down on us and took us into its cage.
Life was so unfair! As soon as we were getting used to thinking that life was good, something comes out and grabs it from us, and I thought we were cursed to be forever miserable, caged in this life, surviving then becoming despondent once again repeatedly.
We were moved to another family. Forced once again to live in fear of the strangers that would be taking care of us.
What did we do wrong to deserve this, was the number one thing that raced through my brain affecting my nerves and leaving me on end. I couldn't take living in this world, always being let down by the mistakes of others. Every time I got close to someone, I’d be forced to live somewhere else.
I was ten years old and my brother was seven when we began our new life with our cousin’s Mia and Casey. They already had one biological son and three other adopted children. I would love to explain to you that I finally got the family that I deserved, but that definitely isnt the case.
Six years has passed and I'm still living in this cage of overwhelming fear enveloping me every passing day. My Biological mother is currently decimating in prison, where she deserves to be for thinking of herself and not others, for ruining the lives of her loved ones, who won’t even accept her anymore. My Biological father is currently unemployed living with his parents house in Big Rapids engaged to a woman he's only known for 3 months.
Every day is an ongoing battle with the family I live with. I never fit in any where that I go because I grew up so differently than anyone else. I don't fit in with the family I am with, I don’t fit in with any one at school.
My parents don’t accept the person I am, and are oblivious...
Oblivious to my anger.
Oblivious to my pain.
Oblivious that I am even there.
I try my hardest to not let my past hold me back, but its there… staring back at me everytime I glance into a mirror.
I know to surround myself with positive people, to take one day at a time, and find the solutions to all my everyday problems, but sometimes they are hidden, always concealing themselves from me.
Nobody explains to you that life isn’t only composed of the decisions you make, it's also based on the decisions that people around you make. The tidal wave of mistakes reaching the opposite side of the ocean. Nobody told me it would be so hard to live and trudge through the mistakes of others.
And it leaves me wondering. Does selfishness run through your blood, passing from parent to offspring? Will I make the same mistakes as my parents did, creating an ongoing cycle of crass? Do I make the percent of the criminal population?
John Green once said “The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive.” I refuse to be that person searching for a way out of the maze that is called Life.
I refuse to let the ghosts of my past control me.
Well, this is my life story… the extremely true part of it. If this isn’t the kind of story that you would usually read, then go find something happier. Be oblivious to others feelings and obstacles. Be like the others who don’t want to listen to others problems. But learn from your mistakes, and learn from the people around you.
If by reading this you feel totally enlightened, then I am glad, because that was my plan the whole time...