I'm not even sure anymore where it all began for me, so I'll start with the very basic stuff.
My daddy stood at 6'6, was covered in tattoos, wore battered, faded, stained, ripped, bogan t-shirts, jeans and boots generally. When I was younger he had dreads and lived in the barn on his land, but as I got older the dreadlocks were cut off and the house was built. He liked alcohol, drugs and fast cars a little too much for it to be safe, but he was the most gentle, caring, loving, understanding, loveable man I have ever come across. I love him so much it hurts.
My mother is something short, quite fiery, and generally an angry person. My parents were never together for more than a few months at a time while I was growing up, and I lived with my mum. We moved house so many times that to this day Dad's and Grandma's houses are still the only places I feel like home. Boyfriends were added and subtracted and each time there was a new one Dad would be irratible and hurting. Mum has a normal job, a normal life, and an abnormal temper. We look quite alike, but anyone who has seen Dad insists they see more of him, I like that.
Mum is loving and caring, although she has fucked up ways of showing it. Sometimes she's cruel, illogical and downright mean, but I love her.
And then there's Jonny.
The darling older brother. Where to start on him?
We grew up entertaining ourselves and he had to learn to cook at a young age because one talent Dad didn't have was cooking. We were the only constant thing in each other's lives. I'll admit I had it easier than Jonny in some ways, while he had it easier in others. Jonny lived with Dad, we have different mothers and his is a special breed of messed up. She did a pretty good job of acting like she didn't give a shit about him and I know for a fact even though he acted tough it really hurt him to think his mother didn't bother trying to have anything to do with him. I lived with my mum but I went to Dad's every day after school and stayed every weekend and holidays. Jonny and I really did grow up as one and the same. My parents would get back together periodically and in the end we didn't even act like it would last, because at the end of the day, Jonny and I only had each other at three a.m when we'd be woken by the screaming rows, and left to comfort Dad as he cried to himself in his bed. I was Dad's baby girl and he loved me more than life itself, and even though Jonny didn't always believe it, Dad loved us equally. Jonny had a pure and good heart, he tormented me like any older brother would, but really he was better than most. He gave me love and attention and growing up I wanted to be just like him. There's five years between J and I and when I was younger I wore his hand-me-downs, played his games and shared his likes, all completely by choice. Jonny was my lifeline, my support, my discipline and my happiness. He was the true meaning of a big brother and I love him more I will ever love another being, except possibly my own children if I have them.
My childhood was very very different from most others, and I'm still not sure if that's a blessing or a curse.
