Chapter 1
"Family isn't always blood." I hear that a lot, in movies I watch and stories I read. I also hear it after I tell people I'm adopted. They say it as if they're trying to comfort me or maybe convince me. But really, I don't need comforting or convincing. I only want answers. I've only ever needed answers.
You may think the questions I desperately need answers to are: Who are my birth parents?Or why they gave me up? As much as I would love to know the answers to those questions, I can live without knowing their truth. But the question I think about each day, and every night is why the hell did my parents adopt me? Why did they adopt me if they're never home? If they're always at work or traveling? Why did they adopt me if they didn't have time for me? I don't get it at all. Adoption is a choice, its not like I forced them to adopt me. I don't recall getting on my knees and begging them to take me with them. It was a closed adoption as well, so they didn't even know the family that gave me up, it was completely their choice. Stupid fu**ing choice.
I do love them. They've been giving me everything I could want since the day they adopted me. A huge house with a pool, maids, chefs, a million cars with chauffeurs, a big pink room I could repaint if I ever wanted to, my own huge walk-in closet, and a bathroom just as big. I don't have an allowance I can just buy whatever I want, I don't have rules to follow either, and they never yell about my grades, (not because they're understanding but because they couldn't care less). I'm not ungrateful, I promise. I thank them for everything all the time and I love having all that. It's a blessing they adopted me, and I know it. I just value the small things more than anything else, you know? Like coming to watch my games at school, or my science fair presentations. Or giving me a curfew to make me think that they want me safe. And I get they have to travel a lot for work, but they could FaceTime me and ask about my day, they could get me souvenirs or anything that makes me feel like they do think about me when they're gone. They could text me that they love me, or miss me, or both.
All my fifteen years of living l've been their daughter. Legally. Yet I still don't believe the quote "Family isn't always blood" applies to us. I think if we were blood related, if I was theirs biologically, they would care more. I've had that theory ever since I was seven and I discovered the art of acting out. I started trying to get in trouble so they would have to give me attention.
The first time I ever did anything was when me and my mom were eating lunch and I decided to push both our plates off the table, when I did that, she looked at me and sighed. Then asked the maid to clean it up, and she got up and went to her room. She didn't even say one word to me other than that sigh. It wasn't an angry or a confused sigh, it was a "I made the mistake of adopting her and now I have to bear it" sigh. She could've yelled. Or asked why I did it. But no, she just left.
In 6th grade I flipped my teacher off so the principal would call my parents. He did, they didn't answer the phone. I think the teacher pitted me, so he just let it go after a long talk. And I did apologize. I'm not a rude person. I didn't even know how I got the courage to do it.
But my favorite stunt I pulled was definitely the last one I did for attention before I started doing shit just because I could. I was twelve, and my dads Bentley was in the driveway with the key inside it. The engine was on, but he wasn't there. I figured he went to grab something or use the bathroom, so I took my chance and walked over and sat in the driver's seat. I put my foot on the gas pedal, and I pushed it down. I don't remember what happened next, I guess I pushed it down too far because I crashed into a tree and lost consciousness.
I stayed in the hospital for 3 days, my mom visited once for less than an hour, and I assumed my dad was mad at me for crashing his car because he never visited nor texted once.
It wasn't my favorite stunt because I enjoyed the pain or whatever, it was my favorite one because it opened my eyes, I finally realized that their money was all they could give me. They couldn't give me the attention I craved or the love I deserved and they still can't.
