In every school, there is an average, typical, happy family. And another. Typical. Happy. Family. And another. And another. And another. And then there’s that one, atypical, unique family that just doesn’t function like most families do. People call it dysfunctional, but I prefer the word unique. Well, that’s my family. And I don’t think many families consider themselves “normal,” but they are happy.
And even on the atypical scale, we aren’t like most atypical families, even. Sometimes, I just feel like I’m drifting closer and closer to I don’t know, just giving in. To life.
My mum makes me so frustrated sometimes, and I tell myself everyone feels that way, but every time, I think it’s different with me. Recently, when she’s been screaming at me, I just felt so empty inside. I couldn’t think of something that I would say back to her if I could, like I usually do. It’s like she’s daring me to talk back just so she can scream at me some more. As if I don’t already know what she thinks of me. Besides being an insufferable brat, I also have to be told something a million times to get it through my thick skull.
I hate myself for that. I hate that I won’t do anything about what I feel is so wrong. I want to scream. At life. At her. To tell her that she’s wrong, and that nobody’s perfect, and even she isn’t always right, like she always insists. That I’m not always wrong. That I shouldn’t have to look at the ceiling at night and tell myself, “No, you aren’t a complete idiot who doesn’t do anything right. You aren’t addicted to a phone or video games. Your mother should be lucky to have a daughter who likes to read, draw, sing, and play the piano. No, you AREN’T an IDIOT. You aren’t. You’re not lazy or stupid. Everything she tells you, it’s not true. It’s not. It’s not! IT’S NOT!”
I pinch myself to not cry. I pinch myself to not scream. I’m trying so hard to accommodate, which I know means nothing anyways. But that’s okay. I’m not happy or okay on the inside. But that’s okay too. No one understands.
The world is full of so many promising things that so many people in this world have. I have a lot, but I can’t help but think about what I’m missing out on. What other people have. And it makes me sort of angry and upset at my parents. At me. At life. But that’s okay. It’s okay to feel that way because it’s natural. But it’s no way to live forever, dwelling on things that you truthfully can not help or change. Thinking about things like that for too long can do stuff to you sometimes, so I try not to do that too much.
Families get divorced all the time. It’s more normal nowadays. It’s hard for the children. It always is. Our situation is different. We’re immigrants and have money and travelling issues that I really don’t want to get into. It’s just hard because we don’t have anywhere else to go.
Our situation is something different, and I don’t think even the strongest words would properly portray the truth. The only person who would ever truly understand is my sister.
Siblings. That’s a whole spiel if you ask me. I have one, and she’s two minutes younger than me. Yes, we’re twins. And it’s frustrating a lot of the times, and this is something you wouldn’t understand unless you were a twin. We are polar opposites, and people still confuse us. And it’s so annoying, the fact that everyone expects us to do everything the exact same. I’m in the eighth grade and have had every single class with her since first grade.
“Who’s older?” “Who’s the smart one?” “Who is nicer?”
That’s literally all I get asked, and at our school, people see us as like the two geniuses, which is a whole different thing I can rant about.
But it’s annoying when you have someone who knows everything you’ve ever been through, all your secrets, all your grades, everything. Oh, and besides that, she has a mouth bigger than Antarctica and is always trying to get you a boyfriend.
Oh, don’t get me wrong, I love her. If I can’t have anything else, I want her to be happy. She understands things about me no one else in the whole world would. We have our secret handshakes, our stories we make up with each other at night. She’s the person I most heavily rely on, and we go through everything together. When my dad isn’t there for me, I know she will always be there for me. I would give her the world if I could. She understands me more than my dad, and my dad understands everything. Whenever my life goes topsy-turvy on me, I think about my dad and my sister, and I know I’ll be okay, and I can breathe again.
And I would never change my family out for anything because there are so many things I love about them. All their imperfections, everything. My mom doesn’t allow me to spend time with my dad anymore, but I will cherish and remember every moment of bliss happiness I ever had with him.
I think no matter what, everyone should love their family. If I had the choice to be born into a different, better family, would I? No! Because I appreciate my family and love them, despite everything. I don’t mean to disrespect or talk down on them by explaining the truth, and trust me, you don’t know the half of it.
But no matter what, family is family, and that will never change. Things may be terrible, but there are people out there who are worse off than you. There are people out there who don’t have a family at all. And I get that everyone feels like their family is just awful at times, but it’s a stage. There’s going to come a time, when you would give anything so you could have just one more minute with your family.
People like my mom can’t be categorized as a good or bad person because every parent has love.
If all else fails, you feel like everything in the world has crashed down on you, remember how lucky you are and know you do have people around you who love you.