Cheese

Story of a Girl
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Ezoic
2016-03-13 21:32:43 (UTC)

Divorce threat #18283719

Being anywhere my mom's husband is the number one way to immediately piss me off. Whenever he comes to pick us up from my dad's house, he has to honk the horn like five thousand times, even when we're outside. I know that it's irrational to get so upset about something as stupid as honking but it seriously just puts me in a bad mood for the rest of the car ride. If he sees that the door is open, it means that I'm already waiting in the living room and I can hear him the first time. He doesn't need to honk fifteen other times when he sees me walking to the car. Not just that, but for whatever reason, he enjoys speeding through the neighborhood and blasting the radio music. He's a part of the reason why I'm so terrified of being in cars whenever the driver starts speeding up; I'm always having to hold onto something. The new van has speakers by every seat and he can turn the volume up from the steering wheel, which I unfortunately don't like because I can't stop him from turning the volume up and I can't help it when he turns the volume up all the way to max so that I can hear the stereos pounding into my ears. I fucking hate being in the car with him and I absolutely hate being anywhere near him. So, he picked us up yesterday but he actually bothered to fucking call me to tell me he was outside instead of waking up the neighbors with his honking. As usual, he was driving above the speed limit with the volume turned up. I was staring out the window the entire time while imagining how I would plan on murdering him. I'm already going deaf but it's not like he cares because he does the same thing even when we have the kids in the car. He had us come to a little closet where the "cleansing" takes place... cleansing as in he spits vodka on us and that apparently "cleans" us of all the "bad" we carry. Bullshit. Briana went first and having to watch him spit vodka on her was more than enough to infuriate me. If it were possible, I'm sure steam would be coming out of my ears. So then he had me stand in the closet with my back to him and he spit on me. I couldn't help but roll my eyes and I kept staring at the blood on the small mirror in the closet. I'm boiling at that point. A long time ago, I was complaining to my dad about my mom making us "clean" ourselves and how I didn't like her forcing us to do things that we didn't want to do because honestly, I don't believe in witchcraft. I may not necessarily believe in god or any gods, but I definitely don't believe in spirits who can see into the future and that spitting vodka on me will rid me of all the negativity I have. I don't believe in any of that bullshit and I normally don't use the word bullshit when I'm talking about religion because I really do respect all other religions but I'm just sooooo fed up with my mom and her practices. Like, my mom was telling my dad about the practices and she said we've all been healthier, wealthier, and happier since she joined the religion... BULLSHIT. That is basically screaming bullshit! She didn't tell my dad about the costs about being in the religion. It's $400 that she has to cough up to the Padrino so he can perform a cleansing because it's apparently "very" tiring. That itself doesn't include the costs of vodka and rum, the bigass blunts they smoke, the animals they sacrifice, and the food he has to eat after. We're barely making ends meet, my mom and her husband are always fighting, we got robbed like two months ago when we were supposed to be having "good luck" but everyone is happy, right? My mom definitely knows how to speak for herself. And, when am I ever going to get that appointment my counselor told my parents about? Because both of my parents would rather use their money on other things than cough up $70 for a single appointment. I obviously already know my mom's religion is more important. My dad told me how my mom was crazy for believing in witchcraft and how she seriously needed God in her life. Then he told me that witchcraft is bad and there's only one god, one saviour, and to never let anything blind me and to not let my mom's nonsense get to me. Yet, my mom is preaching to me about how it's "not" witchcraft and that she's using it for our own good and we're only having bad luck because someone keeps "cursing" us and that's why we always have to have misas. Either way, both my parents are preaching to me about religions that I don't seem to care about. My point is that I think my dad might have talked to my mom about it because she told us she wouldn't have us participating in any of her rituals. "I can't force you to do any of these practices." Thank you. Since her pregnancy, I think she's only had one actual misa and a few small ritual thingies at home, but she still attended the misas at the padrino's house. The latest ritual she's had at home wasn't too long ago; I think it was some time in mid-February. This particular "misa" was a little different than the ones I've ever seen... they bought a baby goat. It was sitting in my living room in its cage and the dogs were so excited to see another animal in the house. My baby sister actually caught my attention when she kept telling me to go the living room; I had heard noises but I thought it was just one of my siblings crying. I went into the living room and I was so surprised to see a baby goat in a cage. I immediately pulled out my phone and started taking pictures of the baby goat and videos and I awed every time it made little crying sounds. Bella was especially happy to have a new friend, seeing as she would climb onto the sofa to meet with the goat and the goat would stick it's head out and they'd sniff each other. Yeah, well, that friendship didn't last more than three hours because they killed the poor baby goat. I literally cried. My mom has a little "shrine" thing by the front door and it has plates of food which my mom uses to "feed" her spirits. I honestly don't believe anything my mom says anymore but the food definitely attracts cockroaches. Anyway, my mom placed the baby goat's head on a plate. I left my room thinking "where did the baby goat go?" And bam, I immediately came face to face with the goat's head... at least it had its eyes closed. Briana later came across the headless body in my mom's "sacred" area of the house. Briana came into the room crying hysterically, telling me how she saw bones sticking out of the body, which I'm assuming was probably the goat's spine. My mom, the padrino, and her husband make me fucking sick. How can they be okay with this? Killing animals in the name of religion? I knew they were going to kill the goat the minute I saw it in the living room but I guess I just wasn't mentally prepared to face the reality of it. I don't know how many times I've said this already, but I am NOT okay with the murdering of animals for religion. If these animals are dying for the purpose of being consumed, I'm going to be upset but I understand that they're not dying in vain. My uncle once killed my chicken friends and as much as I was upset about it at that time, I became okay with it because he made soup out of them. They were consumed and that's okay with me. But what about all the chickens I've seen in my living room? They all died and not for the purpose of being eaten. And then what? These animal sacrifices aren't ridding us of any negativity. I seriously hate to talk about Palo Mayombe like this, but I just... I can't help but hold so much disrespect for this religion. I just can't help but think that my mother practices nonsense. There's just so much that I don't like about her religion. The one thing I can agree on is when she feeds the earth. That is, a hole is dug into the ground and food is placed in said hole. The purpose is to "feed" the ground because the ground provides humans and animals with food in order to survive--everything comes from the ground. That is the only thing I can agree with, but everything else is just nonsense to me. I hold so mucu disrespect for this religion, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I have never talked so badly about any religion but Palo takes the cake.

After that whole cleaning thing, I locked myself in the bathroom and cried for at least ten minutes. My mom can see me crying and she'd still force me to participate in all her cleanings. She did it at my first participation and at all the other cleanings. I really expected her to stay true to her word, but I'm confused. I heard her ask Briana where I was and then she asked her husband why he had "cleaned" us and if he was allowed to do that. They do a lot of unusual activities at the cemeteries ("talking" to the dead, I don't know) so they said something about the cemetery and being allowed to clean other people. I hope I never have to be "cleaned" again. I'm a sinner, I'm not pure, leave me as I am. I haven't made a confession since the age of twelve and I want to be left alone and untouched by anything regarding Palo. I wear the Virgin Mary around my neck but I don't wear it for religious purposes--I wear it for the fact that it was a gift my aunt bought for me, custom made for the day of my first communion and as much as I want to, I refuse to take my necklace off because I know my mom will pawn it. She's done it before. How can my mom raise me as a Catholic yet expect me to participate things that don't relate to my faith? Not that I have much faith in Catholicism, but still... I don't want to participate in anything regarding Palo. I'm just incredibly fed up right now and I know I'm going to say a lot of irrational thoughts. I wonder, why does my mom still have a bible in her room? She doesn't believe in Jesus, there's no need for a bible, right? I will never understand religion.

I will also never understand why she fights with her husband so much. By the time I had left the bathroom, I heard her "arguing" with her husband over a divorce. From what I heard while I eavesdropped, he's been talking to some lady... which is actually old news. I've been aware that while he was in North Dakota, he and my mom shared facebook accounts but he created as secret account, thinking my mom wouldn't find out (and she did) and he started messaging other women on it. So, I heard yesterday that he had told my mom that a lady sent him a friend request and he immediately blocked her but my mom said he had sent the friend request and he had blocked HER so he could message the other woman. Then, they started talking about divorce and my mom would be okay on her own and he said "where are you going" and she said "that's none of your business." Then she went on, talking about him and how he said he'd change but he hasn't changed at all and she was done dealing with his bullshit as well. Okay, but, how many times has she threatened to divorce? Didn't she say that before announcing her pregnancy? Hmmmm? It's about damn time! I want a real divorce. I've said it before and I'll say it again: we were better off before she married him. I'm pretty sure he only married her because she told him the baby was his but we all know that the baby is neither his or my dad's. Call me selfish, I don't care, but I'm done having to wake up after midnight only to call the police because she's fighting with him. I'm done having to deal with his bullshit and I'm GLAD they're talking about a divorce. I doubt she'll want to have dual custody like she does with my dad; she'll probably settle for child support and rob him of his paycheck... I'm okay with that! As long as he's not living under the same roof as me, I'm good! Seriously though, they were fighting on Wednesday and my dad blamed me for it. It was Monday when I told my mom that he had hit my sister for no good reason and he got pissed at me. My mom has been mad at him all week, but first, she AGREED with me. "Tell me, how many times have you hit her since you came home from work?" so on Wednesday when we came to pick our stuff up, she asked me if the door to her bedroom was closed and I said yes. That immediately told me that they were about to fight. I was out grocery shopping with my dad when he received a call from her husband asking if we had heard from my mom because she had left the house without saying anything. My dad made it obvious that he didn't want to talk to him but he said to just talk things out with my dad. In the car, my dad blamed me for them fighting and told me not to get involved with their problems. The one time I actually stand up for my siblings is the one time I'm told not to. First off, since my baby brother could walk, my mom has told her husband to stop hitting the kids so hard. My baby brother became a punching bag and now it's my sister. Does my dad really expect me to let my new brother go through the same thing without speaking up? Yes, the kids need discipline but they don't need bruises on their legs! They shouldn't be needing to hide in my room when they hear footsteps! I'm not the one getting hit but even I get scared when I heard footsteps. My brothers chase each other around the house barefoot when they're playing and I shake a little when I hear their feet against the tiles--it sounds almost exactly like the sound of them getting smacked. My dad seriously thinks this is okay? "He will discipline his kids the way he thinks is appropriate." Okay, but what about my mom? She's the one who popped them out and she says NO. I'm merely agreeing with her. He may have grown up being hit for everything he did wrong, but they're my siblings too and I don't want them growing up to beatings. He, as a father, shouldn't want for his kids to fear him. That's all I said, "they fear you." No, but wait. So it was like last last Tuesday and both my mom and her husband were out running errands or whatever. The girls and I don't mind leaving the kids by themselves because they usually sit in the living room watching Tom and Jerry. My little brother is much easier to watch over because as long as he's watching his csrtoons, he's fine. My sister is a little more high maintenance so we frequently have to check up on her. Well, my brother and sister ran into the room and both started telling me to follow them into the living room so I did and I saw that they had broken one of my mom's figurines. It wasn't a religious figurine, or at least I think so, because we've had this specific figurine for a while. So, I yelled out "WHO DID THIS" and they were both blaming the fault on each other. I started collecting all the pieces but the head of the figurine was missing. Lizzy and Briana came out so I told them about the figurine and Briana started searching for super glue while Lizzy and I searched for the missing piece. We didn't have super glue so Briana used nail polish to glue them together and the pieces did kind of stick together but not for long. At the end of the night, Briana decided to throw it away (what I originally suggested) so the four of us had all agreed to tell my mom that we had never seen those figurines before. It was a big, fat lie because we've had those figures since my parents divorced but STILL. She did come and ask what happened to the figurine but we were all like "What figurines? We didn't even know we had them." A few days later, my mom had her husband move the couch to see if the figurine was there but it wasn't. Briana rushed me into the room and told me the figurine piece was in some kind of drawer and she had thrown it out. Lizzy was pretending to help him search for the missing head when she found it and gave it to Briana to throw it away. And we did all this so the kids could avoid probably the worst beating of their life, compared to the yelling my mom did on my brother's birthday.

If a divorce means that my siblings won't have any more bruises on their legs, I am all for it.

I know I don't show it often, but I care for my siblings. I get mad at them, yes, but I don't want to hear them crying anymore over the stinging on their hands. I don't want to see them coming to me with tears in their eyes and them asking for me to rub the area where they were hit. It breaks my heart to see my siblings like that. When I see my siblings crying over something ridiculous like my brother playing with my sister's toy, it won't bother me but when it comes to the bruises on their bodies, that's when I get mad. My mom and dad always used to yell at me for hitting my sisters. They'd always tell me, "Don't fight with your younger sisters! You're supposed to protect them, not hit them." I don't care what my dad or anyone else has to say about what happened on Monday, but I believe that I did the right thing by telling my mom that he hit her, even if it did make things more tense between them. My mom admitted that they were having problems a week prior, so.

But their problems aren't necessarily what I wanted to rant about. I just want to know why my relationship has been more successful than theirs. They've been married for about four-ish or five years now; not even four months into their marriage, they were already having problems and have been having problems. I understand that all relationships have problems but, like, these problems keep popping back up EVERY year. Couples fight, I know. Didn't I just say that I wasn't talking to Elías for like a week? I was being childish but we worked things out. Our fights have never gotten to the point where we are physically attacking each other... he's never placed a hand on me and meant to cause me pain. We playfight all the time but never physically hurt each other. When my mom fights with her husband, the cops are involved 90% of the time and there's slamming of doors, yanking of hair and clothing and all the kids are locked up in their rooms. I'm having to relive my childhood but instead of my dad, it's my mom's husband. When Elías and I fight, he puts me in my place but we actually talk things out. I can understand why her husband gets frustrated because my mom likes things done in her way and she makes it impossible to talk rationally to. But, what I'm trying to say is, how is it possible that a bunch of teens handle relationship problems better than adults? How is it that we started dating before we were teenagers and are still very happy together but my mom and her husband can't get through a single year of their relationship without physically attacking each other? I need someone to explain this to me because I don't understand. My mom is always making fun of me because I'm a minor; I'm still a child who isn't mature enough to handle the real world, yet, I seem to be more mature when it comes to handling problems with a special other. Maybe it's not fair to compare a stupid teen relationship with that of an adult relationship, I don't know. A lot of people still find it hard to believe that we're a pair of teens who haven't broken up with each other and I find it hard to believe it sometimes, too. But, it's my reality and I'm glad we're still together. I'm glad that we have held a longer relationship than most teen relationships nowadays, but everything that is good will come to an end. And as much as I don't like my mom, I hope she can also find someone who can tolerate her like El has tolerated me. Not only am I physically like my mom, but I'm also mentally like her. I don't know how or why he's put up with me for so long, but I'm glad that he does and hopefully my mom will find a person who can tolerate her. But like I said, maybe it's not fair to compare my relationship to hers.

It was a while after that my mom called me out so we could go out to the gym. The car ride there was kind of awkward and I didn't really want to talk with her. We arrived there at 1:42PM and we stayed for about an hour. In the 71 minutes we were there, I burned off a total of 515 calories... I really need to start pushing myself because I'm not satisfied with the amount that I'm losing. My mom says I need to start off slow so my muscles can get used to it but I'm like "lol no." I'm used to my crossfit mentality where everything is fast paced and you really have to push yourself and the satisfaction of finishing the wod is soooo, so worth it. I want to be doing kettle bell squats and swings and handstand push-ups and double unders and as many push presses as I can handle. I want to be doing tabatas and murphs and annies. Like, shit, aha, throw everything at me because I wanna gooo! But I can't do any of that at this gym. They don't have any medicine balls or the boxes for box jumps and they don't even have the thing for pull-ups. They've got weights but I don't know if I can use those in the place of kettle bells. 515 is the most I've burned off since I've started and tomorrow will mark the first or second week of going to the gym. So, y'know, my mom was talking to the padrino over the phone and she told me she was ready to go home and I didn't even get the chance to wipe my machine because she had already started walking to the front of the building. We got into the car and their conversation started escalating because of the way my mom was practically yelling into her bluetooth. From my understanding, the padrino was accusing my mom of doing something to his daughter and my mom was arguing against that claim. May I just remind him that my mom took his daughter in for a week when no one else would? Yet, he's accusing her of doing something bad? I don't know the whole story but it sounds fishy. I have a theory that the padrino is actually the one who's doing brujería on us... it's just a theory, but, you never know. My mom also said she wouldn't be attending any of his misas anymore because she's seeing things she doesn't want to see. She also mentioned something about a family she wanted nothing to do with. I want to take a guess and say it's the neighbors from out other house but I don't know. That made me really excited though because finally, after like two fucking years of having to deal with all this religion thing, she finally decides to stop attending and this is great news because we won't have to be taking care of the kids for five hours until she decides to come home past midnight. I'm not truly convinced that she'll stop going to misas because I know her but I like the sound of the words in the same sentence. If she sticks to her words, well damn, I'll be surprised. I highly doubt it, though. What really bothered me about me about this conversation was how my mom was pronouncing her words. Because cubans have that accent and they don't pronounce the 's' at the end of their words and mexicans do. My mom was using "tu sabes" but she said "tu sabe" instead and the same with "entonces" being pronounced as "entonce". I was cringing the whole time. I'm developing the cuban accent too and I really don't want to. So Zach, Elías, and I were playing catch during winter break and we were all yelling at each other but I was yelling super fast in spanish so El was like "wtf slow down??? are you even speaking spanish?"" and finding out that my cuban accent is in development scares me. I don't get along with cubans, I don't want their accent, I want nothing to do with cubans at this point in time. Guy has already started developing it too and it scares us both because if I'm talking, he'll give me this really surprised look and he'll go "stop talking it's happening" or the other way around. Really though, it's the cubans at school who make us dislike other cubans. If the cubans at school were nice to us, we'd probably be friends with anyone else who is cuban. And honestly the rest of that afternoon isn't worth talking about. My mom and her husband went to the padrino's house and they took the kids with them. Nothing interesting happened at home but today is a whole different story.

I woke up this morning and heard the sound of someone doing some cooking in the kitchen. I thought it would be my mom but it wasn't. I went over to her room to see if the kids were awake and they were but my mom and the baby weren't there. I went back to my room and started catching up on some old news. A few minutes later, I heard the door close. He left without saying a word, not even bothering to notify me that he was leaving me home with the kids. But whatever, I feel safe at home when he's not here. My mom texted me not long after to ask if he was home but I told her he had left without saying anything. He came back maybe an hour later while I was eating breakfast and he grabbed something off of the snack fridge but I didn't get the chance to see what it was. He also grabbed a bag but again, I didn't see much. He then left again and maybe about two minutes later, my mom had called to see if he had left. My mom arrived maybe about half an hour later and told us to get ready to go to the park. While we were getting ready, I saw her grabbing some trash bags and putting some things in there but I didn't get a chance to see anything because I was watching over the baby. I knew from the minute she left that something would happen later on. I knew she was stressed, too, so I was avoiding making her even angrier. On the way to the park, we bought some pizza but then returned to the house to bring cups and one of the gallons of juice that we had. Once we were at the park, we ate in the car and she had me make a call to the storage place to see when she would have to go in and pay. The kids were pretty ecstatic about being at the park. As soon as their seatbelts were off, they started running over to the soccer field and even ran into a game with another family. My decided we could go back to home to grab them their own ball but it was hell trying to get the kids to walk back to the car. If one of them stopped crying, the other would start and the entire car ride home featured at least one or both kids crying. I could already tell that my mom was trying to stay calm. I ran back inside to grab one of the balls and then we made our second trip to the park... which was worse than the first trip. My brother didn't want to share the ball with anyone and he was crying and ugh. My mom wanted to walk around to let the dogs get some exercise but my baby brother was making it impossible to do anything and my mom was irritated enough. She yanked him by his hair, his ear, any other body part and he still wouldn't stop crying. He eventually sat down while the girls and I kicked the ball around. We also met a cute lady with one of the friendliest chihuahuas I've ever seen. The dog had never seen me before but she ran up to me, asking for me to scratch her head, and she jumped around and basically, the dog was adorable. We eventually decided to leave after not even half a lap around the park. The kids weren't too terrible on the way home and I was dreading the afternoon and I think I still have every right to. My mom had planned a very nice meal for today but obviously, she never got around to it. She seemed tense and she was in her room the entire time. To distract myself of what would be happening later on, I started doing laundry. It was a little past 6:30PM that she said she was going out and she'd be back later. She took the newborn with her. The kids weren't much trouble, except for them continuously grabbing the colored pencils that I pay for. Her husband arrived at 7:28PM and he came in pulling things apart and shoving other things into trash bags. Before the trash bags, he had asked Briana when my mom had left but she kept replying with, "I don't know." He kept asking for a certain time or just a guess but she wasn't saying anything. I knew the exact time she stepped foot outside the house but I obviously wasn't going to open my mouth. I was bringing the laundry back into my room and I had heard him ask, "Did your mom say anything about you going to your dad's house?" and then he asked when my dad was supposed to get off work... as if any of that should matter to him. At that time, I gathered my sisters in my room and told them to start putting their shoes on (in case if we had to run out to call the neighbors for help or whatever) and I sent my mom a text message telling her that he was here. He kept coming in and out of the house, shoving more things into trash bags and after a while, my mom showed up. She handed me the baby bag and told me to watch over the bag. I decided to take an extra precaution and hide her keys and phone. This is completely sad to me--the fact that I'm having to prepare in advance because it's the same thing every time--but whenever they fight, he's always having to demand keys. Whether it's the car keys, mail keys, house keys, he's always demanding keys and my mom puts up a fight because obviously she's not going to hand them over. I hid her phone because he always yanks it from her. He shattered the my phone's screen last time, too. I wasn't about to lie to my dad over what happened. I'm not going to make MYSELF look bad and stupid over his actions. I predialed 911 on my phone and hid her phone in my pocket so if he planned on attacking anyone for the phone, it would be me. Maybe it's not the brightest option, and maybe I should've hidden the phone along with the keys, but I'm a minor. If he places a hand on me, I can get him arrested for it. I'll use whatever I can to my advantage, y'know? I knew that if they fought, he'd start searching through all my drawers so I hid the keys in an old backpack. He wouldn't be smart enough to look in my old bags. He came in not long after, demanding his keys. My mom came in asking where I had his keys and he was like, "Bianca, I'm going to tell you something. You don't involve yourself in these adult problems." As if I gave a shit. My mom said, "Don't listen to him, just get the keys." So I went over to my old backpack and grabbed the keys and gave them to my mom. She started picking out the keys she would give to him but he yanked them out of her hands and stormed out. My mom started laughing and then came into my room, asking for her phone.

He may have taken her keys, but I hope she hasn't forgotten that I still have my copy of the house key.

I'm surprised that this is the first first where they weren't physically attacking each other. I'm actually more surprised at the fact that I didn't have to call the police. Wow, a first! I knew he was drunk. Maybe it's because of having to deal with my dad and his drinking, or maybe it's all the funny drunk moments with Elías, or maaaaybe it's because her husband always goes out drinking when they're fighting, but I could tell he was drunk. Something in my head told me, "Yo, you gotta be careful, he might be drunk but I dunno, fam." It was after a while that my mom started talking to her friend on the phone that she pointed out he was drunk. Okay, but let me just have a mini rant inside a bigger rant...

How much of a fucking dumbass can he be? No no nooooo. Within the first few months of their marriage, they were already having problems. I remember when I was in seventh grade, so some time in 2011-2012, they had gotten into a pretty ugly fight at night and he had stormed out of the house. I don't remember falling asleep that night, but I did. My mom was getting ready to drop me off at my bus stop when we saw her husband sleeping across the street, completely drunk. I almost felt bad for him. Almost. I realized that it was his own fault for going out to drink. I remember my mom telling me my dad was the same--storming out after a fight to go drinking. The majority of my mom's fights with her husband somehow always include him drinking. He KNOWS he has a drinking problem and my mom has told him several times. Every fucking time, he tells her he's going to change but he never does. He tells her he's going to stop and everything is good for three months or so before he decides to fuck up by coming home drunk. My mom isn't asking him to give up drinking for good; she's asking for him to hold back on the drinking, to not get beyond wasted. My mom knew he'd come home drunk today. I just want to know WHY he decided to go get drunk. He does it every fucking time that they fight. Things always escalate. Instead of actually trying to work things out, he decided to go get wasted and of course that's never a good thing. I would've thought that four or five years into their marriage, he would know to not get wasted after a fight. I also would've expected my mom to divorce him by now because I am absolutely tired of having to deal with their nonsense. "But it doesn't have anything to do with you." But it does??? Because if they fight, I'M the one having to call the cops, I'M the one having to reassure my siblings that everything is fine, I'M the one having to fill out police reports. If they fight, it affects the kids as well as my mom. If she struggles, then that means we have to struggle too whether we like it or not. No one can fucking tell me that my mom's choices don't affect us, because they do. Every choice my mom has made after her divorce with my dad has affected us one way or another. Like, her having to marry this guy. She thought he'd actually help us get further in life but all he's done is hold us back for four years. He can go fuck himself, fucking dumbass.

So my mom has been throwing away whatever items he left behind. Not throwing them away, but she's going to leave his stuff outside and if anyone wants to take anything, they're free to do so. She's going to go dump everything at the storage tomorrow morning at 9AM when the storage gates are open. Literally everything that is his is going to be at the storage so he'll have nothing to come "home" to. Good. I'm done dealing with his and my mom's bullshit. But, I think my mom's making tons of mistakes right now. I think her first mistake was telling my padrino what was happening. Her husband is obviously going to rush over to the padrino and the padrino is going to tell him everything and then he'll be showing up here to argue with my mom. My mom has been telling the padrino's girlfriend also and I don't know, but I don't think she should be telling them, of all people. Or maybe my mom's not making any mistakes. I don't know. I don't know if I want to know at this point. I just got done taking a shower and my mom changed the locks on the door. My hair smells like peaches and I'm trying to listen to happy music right now. I don't want to go to school tomorrow, worried about the things that could be happening at home. I just really hate my life right now. Hey There Delilah, Kiss Me Again, Spectrum, they're all helping to distract me. I'm going to make a happy playlist and those three songs are going to be the first that are added. I'm also hungry. I haven't eaten since we left the park but it's late and I want to sleep. I figured that if I wrote my thoughts down, I wouldn't have any thoughts left to keep me awake at night. The only thing that should be keeping me awake tonight is the thought of him coming back during midnight. I'm trying to sleep earlier but I guess I'll start tomorrow night. Tonight is not a good night and my heart just keeps racing. But if I'm worried, then my mom must be terrified. Why can't we just have a normal family? Why couldn't I just have been born into a normal family? Or, not born at all? I thought that they had fought on Wednesday or earlier Thursday, and maybe they did, but I really wanted to avoid them fighting while we were at home.

And I'm just now remembering that I had homework to do over the weekend... hahaha, fuck my life.


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