HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BEAUTIFUL AUNT!

Scared & Fragile

I think that what hurt me the most about my parents fighting was seeing how mean and aggressive they can get. We grow up thinking that our parents are perfect, that they are the best persons in the world, and of course we don't expect them to do what they did to me over the past few days. Maybe it is not a big deal, maybe I am overreacting. But the truth is that I am in shock. I just can't look at them in the eyes after everything they said, not because they fought and they involved me, but because I could see a whole new side of them, not as parents, but as normal persons. And I figured that if my own parents can do what they did to each other and to me, then what am I supposed to expect from the rest of the world? And that scares me, and I feel fragile because every little thing can break me down. I feel like my parents are strangers to me now, which also makes me feel lonely and alone, like I just don't know anything.

Parents are the base of our lives. That base needs to be stable in order for us to grow up healthy and happy because that base is what supports everything. In my family, that base broke long ago, but somehow, we could all bandage some of the damages, and that's how I grew up. But I never said anything, and I always tried to deal with it, along with a lot of things that happened throughout my life. Now that I saw my parents fight like that, I felt like that base broke again, but this time, I didn't have anybody to rely on because my own parents were the enemy, not fate, not hard situations, not other people... but my parents. And I exploded, because I'm also trying to deal with the fact that I'm leaving in less than 2 months, and with all of the doubts and fears that I have about my future. So breaking that base messed everything up. And I have this ball of feelings inside my chest, filled with sadness, hate, pain, disappointment, fears, insecurities, and questions. I wanna scream and run but I can't. It just makes me angry and mad.

I am just scared. And I feel weak as hell.

A Home Divided In Two

My parents got divorced when I was around 2 or 3, I don't even know. All I know is that it was long ago, and I don't even remember how it happened. I never really cared, I tried to take advantages of it. But as I grew older I started to understand what everything really meant. Today I feel like I don't have parents; I have a mom in one side, and a dad in the other side. And the gap between both of them, both families, both houses, both lives, are around 10.000 km away from each other (literally).

Even though I don't care about the fact that they are not together, I do care about the fact that my life is divided in two. I can't have them all together. I can't have my sisters in the same city, which means that when I'm with two of them, I cannot see the other two. It also means that when I'm with my dad, I go to one school, I speak English, I have different friends, a different lifestyle, and a completely different culture than when I am with my mom, in Argentina, where I speak Spanish, I go to another school, I hang out with different people, and I do different things.

Just like I grew up without noticing all of these things, my parents grew old without noticing them either. 

Today I'm 16, I live with my dad, and in two months or a little bit more I'm moving back with my mom. My whole life is gonna change (once again). But those things are not the ones that hurt the most about having divorced parents. I know change, I can handle it.

What hurts the most is when they make me feel like instead of having two homes, I don't even have one. When I moved with my dad, my mom transformed my room into an office. And when I'm at my dad's, I sleep in the guest room, even though he likes to call it my room, which is not really my room. Why? Because when another guest is visiting, I gotta sleep in another mattress in the floor, with my sister, or in the couch. I have no option. Why? Because that is technically not my room. Why? Because this is my dad's house, and I don't live here permanently. Why? Because I live with my mom. Why? Because they are divorced. In conclusion, I don't have a bedroom. It sounds stupid, but it is not, because just like I don't have a bedroom, I don't also have a home, is like wherever I go, I always step into their new families.

Tonight my aunt in law (my step mom's sister) came to visit for the weekend (for the third time of the year) and once again, I ended up sleeping in the freakin floor. I clearly showed my disagreement towards me giving up my bed, and I know I looked immature and selfish, but at this point, I just want respect. Do you think my two year old sister could sleep somewhere else? No, please, how can she go to another bed?! But me, of course I can. My room is the guest room, so I definitely gotta go somewhere else. There is no place that I can call mine.

And yeah, that's how it works for us. We have a broken family, and home divided in two where we don't even belong anymore.