I have never been one to run away from my issues. Let life come as it is meant to be. I can stand up and fight for my place, but I do it solely alone. No matter what has ever happened, I have been able to get through it without any help. Even if I was barely making through and was dragging my feet through the ground, I still made it. Writing this piece of my life to a complete stranger makes me feel like they are going through it with me. Even though that should make me feel warm, I still feel as alone as I did before I started this essay. To be able to explain my life right now, I have to explain the rest.

I wish I could say, “This all started when...”, but I can’t. It’s not that there wasn’t a start, because everything has a beginning. It’s just that the start has already happened by the time I was born. I was sort of caught in the middle of the action. Which, I guess if you think about it, is what kept me sane.

I was born a healthy child. My limbs were connected, my brain was rattling, and the doctors were exhausted. Being as little as I was, I cannot remember the beginning or the end of anything. The middle however, is crystal clear. My younger sister was the odd one between us. She was born with a disease that only adults were suppose to have. It must’ve been hard for my mom to see one child living, and the other dying. To this day, I do not know how she managed to give us both smiling moments.

Perhaps it was the fact that my sister wasn’t capable of becoming like him, that my father rejected her. Things like that are supposed to be life changing, but instead, my dad grabbed a beer, wrapped his arms around old buddies, and continued on. The past was my dad’s spotlight, and he just could not close the curtain. It’s a shame, because he missed some incredible moments.

After my sister died, my mother, father, and I, had all gone to the United States. My dad continued to drink, but my mom did anything she could to get a job. No matter how degrading, or tiring the job was, she did it. Just like any other seven year old, I went to school to study. I had to learn English, but that wasn’t difficult. In one year, I was fluent in both languages.

Throughout the years, my parents fought, separated, and returned to each other. My mother had no other choice. If she wanted to continue making it through ends meet, she needed my father. Well, at least that’s what he always made her feel. He only knows how to make people feel as low as he is. Since I think like my mother, he does not approve of me, and rejects me. He does it in a way that it is difficult to notice. Like, if I am going on a diet while I’m living with my mother, he will feed me fatty foods. He also had a hobby of making everything seem like it was my fault, or making me feel bad for him. He continues to try that, but I have learned to look straight ahead, and deal.

Just seven months ago, the IRRS came to my mother’s job, and took her to jail. She stayed there one night, and then returned. One night, and nothing has been the same since. For the first few months, she was incredibly depressed. My mother has always been the one to be active, and work. Since she was unable to work anymore, she just sat there. I later found out she was thinking suicide moments. I remember wishing that she would talk to me like before. Everything was going perfectly before that. That’s how my life usually works like; all perfect, until it’s not anymore. I helped my mother through it, as well did my aunt. The rest of my family was trying to call her dead, and feed off her remains. I despise them for trying to sink her lower then she already was. She did make it through though. She started going out, and stopped crying. When we moved in with my aunt, she started learning English. She’s making plans for the future, no matter where she’s going.

No one thought that this would influence me as much as it did. I am afraid when she goes out, or when I don’t hear from her. I cry constantly, and worse of all, I let my father get to me. He started making plans like if she weren’t here anymore. I still lived with my mother, and I still held my head high. Now, after a few months, I have learned to be strong again. To remember that life does go on, and I need to adapt to the situations around me. Nothing has to look as horrible as it is.

I was making plans for my future, and learning to live on. My grades went up, and I was learning my capabilities in this world. I was even going out with my friends to enjoy myself again. Then, because there always is a “then”, the court letter came for my mom. She has court next Wednesday. For the whole week, all I could think about was that all my plans have gone downhill. All of mine and her plans were no longer capable of happening. I would have to go move in with my father, and never see her again.

I started thinking again, truly thinking about everything that has happened. If I could have gone through so much, I will be able to make it through this. My plans can continue. I am capable of keeping my head up and myself strong. The only thing that cannot be changed is the death.