Milk & Bone- Coconut Water


I’m the second child in my family. I feel like today was the day that the realization of: holy shit I am the unvalued one hit me. Mostly, from my Dad. It’s the way he spoke. He praised my sister high and low and spoke very little of me. He described her as a baby, her first words, what time she was born, but with me-nothing. Doesn’t remember what I first said or when I was born, there were no cutesy little baby stories about Katherine. I find it slightly frustrating that someone who does worse in school than me, mostly just Netflixs, never does anything, is a nervous wreck, is twenty years old and just learned how to drive, still cries on the freeway, still lives at home/stays at home, is given a better rep than me. I know, I know, I sound jealous. Maybe I am a little. It’s just no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, my Dad could care less. I run Varsity on Cross Country for two years and my Dad never went to any of my Cross Country matches. Not one. He went to my sisters, and she walked all the time and eventually quit. I’m campaigning for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, my Dad won’t help me out financially when I’m trying to set up events, all the money comes out of my pocket and I don’t have a job. If my sister was doing it, he would definitely help her out. He bought her a car for her eighteenth birthday, a new one, before she even learned how to drive. I’m trying to learn how to drive and he’s refusing to pay for my insurance and obviously isn’t interesting in teaching me. I’m getting my Moms old car. I get all As in school and it’s “Okay. Good job.” My sister gets some As, a couple Bs, and a few Cs and he’s all: “Very good!”

He doesn’t push me. It frustrates the hell out of me. It’s like: come on, give me something. I’m trying here.

It doesn’t help when my Mom reminds me: Your father didn’t even want another baby. He only wanted one. 

Thanks. That makes me feel so much better.

Ava gets how I feel at home. She told me: “I’m sorry to tell you this, but you’re kinda on your own in stuff. My Mom will totally help you out though if you need anything.” Which is a sweet offer, but I won’t take it. I don’t want to impose on another family that has their own children to take care of.

When it comes to college Dad’s all: “I’m only paying X amount. (It’s not enough for four years at any college). So you can go to a community college for two years and live a home, then transfer to a university for your last two years, and live at home.”

Hell no. I’ve been waiting to get out of here since I was in the seventh grade. I am not staying at my house when I’m eighteen. I just can’t. I’m so tied down here. This house is toxic. My family is toxic. Thinking about wasting two more years of my life here makes me want to cry. I can’t, I can’t I can’t. I need to go out and be my own person. To live. That’s NOT going to happen here. Ava understands it, why can’t my Dad see it? Why can’t he understand the importance of leaving the nest and going off on my own. Figuring out who I really am. Really really am. Too many bad things have happened here. I need to start fresh and as always, alone.

After thrifting with Ava, Camille, Anna, and Jessica I went to Uncle Richards 80th birthday party. All the second and third cousins that I’d never met or even heard of were there. I think  I was allergic to the chicken shiskabobs because when I had a bit my whole face started to just heat up. Uncle Richard and Aunt Wanda are our only relatives where we live, strangely I’ve seen more of my family in Australia and Alaska than I’ve seen of them. There was a four week old baby named Colette. I guess she’s my third cousin. I don’t know what it is with me and babies but they usually cry in my presence. She was so cute and small. Her eyelashes were incredibly long. I didn’t hold her. I don’t know much about babies. I was studying Uncle Richard’s house and I noticed just how cozy and family oriented it was. There were pictures all over the house- wedding photos and baby photos. Our house only has baby photos of my sister. I have one photo in the house, and it was taken in 8th grade. My heart broke just looking at there wall. Everything screamed family that actually loves each other ! Yeah, that’s not how things fly between me, my Dad, and Lizzy. Uncle Richard has had a hard life, but he’s one of the kindest men that I know. When he was seven he lost his Dad, and when he was thirteen he witnessed his Mom run over by a drunk driver. He lived alone as an orphan when he was seventeen and joined the Navy. He loves to build model boats and planes. He described our grandpa (we never met him, he died before Lizzy was born) as a kind man who took him under his wing for a little while after his Mom’s death. Being with family just made me shut up and retreat within myself even more. I just felt more empty. Sorry, I’m not trying to be depressing. Just honest. I don’t even know what I mean or how I’m feeling most of the time so goodnight.

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