Posted: July 23, 2010 in July

I never did understand my family very well. I am the well black sheep of my family, but to be honest there is more than one black sheep in my family. For some reason I split my family into two groups; my mom and sisters, and then my dad and brother. I am not really in either group. I am more of a mix of both.

My mom and sisters are the interesting side of the family. Always doing something that makes the other side look at them with shame. I don’t understand why. I usually just think they’re having fun with their lives. They actually live, is really what they do. They aren’t afraid to fail I suppose.

Then there is my dad and brother. Well to do, thought highly of, and expected much of. (I don’t really see how I put myself into this group now that I think of it. I am not much of any of that…) They are quite religious. (Oh, that’s it. I go to church, but so do my sisters.) My brother’s on a mission and my dad is a high spoken man in our church. (Maybe that’s it. I just speak. My opinion is always known. Yes, I like that. But I still get a lot of that from my mom…)

Our family is an odd one. I honestly can’t remember a time when we were all together and actually happy. My parents are divorced and my sisters are my half sisters from another marriage before my time. I’ve seen other families these traits in them and they work out either still tolerating each other and civil or not talking at all. My family isn’t really doing either. My parents talk maybe once a year, and if they must be in a room together (like at my graduation or my brother’s farewell for his mission) they’re at opposite ends of the room. Of course we all have our problems but I think that is at the root of all our problems. We don’t talk to each other and we keep secrets in our little rings.

But the rest of my family isn’t the part I am…vexed (I am not sure what word I want to use here…vexed, annoyed, troubled, smothered, beaten, agonized…I like vexed…) by. I live with my dad. I have for all my life, but it’s been probably around eight years since my mom left (my sisters were gone by then too…) and I’ve lived with him alone for almost a year since my brother left for his mission (Two years if you count him living away at college, but he came back like every weekend…). My dad doesn’t seem to know anything about me. He doesn’t even know I have a blog, or that I am trying to write a story or that my boyfriend broke up with me. I use to not mind that I was a part of the wall to him, but now I honestly wonder if he’ll miss me when I go to college.

He cried when my brother left. Will he cry for me too? Probably not. I wonder if he’d cry if he knew I never want to come back to this place…I really don’t know. He’d probably just disown me like everything else that could tarnish his perfect reputation. I got it! He’d miss me when he’d have to clean his nasty house himself! Yes I could really see that.

I honestly can’t wait to move out. Even if it’s hard for me to be in the real world, I am ready for it. You may wonder how is this eighteen year old girl ready for life. You’d be amazed what life I’ve had to life for almost ten years.


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