Months flew by, like that. Staying the more that I could, alone, in my room. Cutting myself each time emotions would get too high - which was very often. Everyone in the house seemed to have a happy time, except for me who was taken apart often. Only to be yelled at by my father.
At that time parents were something I did not want to have. Neither did I need them, I thought to myself.
Between school, dance classes and the scolding I passed the other time begging for my dad that I wanted to work. Yes, how weird it sounded, I know had to ask everything to my father. To go buy one-dollar bags of chips at the end of the road to go take a walk even to have a job.
Eventually, my stepmom convinced him. Even if it was my choice to work or not at almost 15 years old. I started to work, at Dollorama. I did a lot of hours, which everyone wanted me to drop.
To me, it was ideal. I was either at school or in dance class having fun or at work gaining money. I was barely home, it was the dream at the time.
As I had more money, I started buying more stuff. Giving a reason for my father to yell at me even more. Hatred towards him started to grow up. As I did to my mom, I was starting to have fun going against the stupid things he didn't want me to do; buying stuff online, staying in my room, and speaking about my mother. Even if it would always end me crying, cutting myself or even doing a panic attack because of the hard things he said.
YOU ARE READING
My Truth Untold
Non-FictionThis book isn't for others. Usually, I write intending to help others pass through hard stuff and understand how precise situations can be felt. But this one, this book is different. This book is to help me. May I kill this beast, slowly eating me...
