One day I stop going to my fathers house and never understood why, until I got older and my mom told me.... I was taking a bath and I had scratch marks on my back, she told me I said, "Poppy did it, he touched me." As I got older I heard more horror stories about him but that wasn't aware of, until later on as I got older. So eventually my mom best friend moved down south to get herself together. I was once alone again, before I started school I would stay with my grandparents and even after when my mom needed a sitter. By that time my mom meet my brother and sister father. He never bothered me but my mom hated when he would being his daughter around. I think all she ever did was complain, she would do her hair cause my mom would be pissed about doing it. She was very nice to her thou, only because of her father. My mom kissed up to ppl that was in her life or who she was chasing. It turned me off cause she always made me go to my room and was nice to everyone but me. I felt like I was her punching bag. She couldn't yell or snap at anyone else but me. If it wasn't for her own benefit she didn't care about anyone else's feelings. All I ever heard was I'm grown, this is my life, u trying to kill me, why can't you be like.... I got so tired of the negativity I stayed to myself. When my cousin came over, her and her mother was always a problem. Sisters always fighting, she would break all my stuff and was wild. I didn't want to be bothered with get either and get mom would get mad at me and yell at me and my mom. Anything I did was never right or good enough so I was always mad or had a attitude. I wasn't happy, my mom never stuck up for herself so me as a kid lost respect. How can u let others disrespect u but I always listen, u never looked at my report cards or did anything as a real parent. You just made sure I didn't die, I remembered my step father cooking but not my mom. The only time She cooked was to impress a man. I was so mentally frustrated, I couldn't wait to become a adult, little did I know. It was more to it than that.
© Jocelyn Ceasar