Many people sit down to talk about their hobbies or interests. The only things occupying my mind are memories. Most of them aren't even pleasant. Here are the ones that haven't been entirely forgotten. Some are more vivid than others.
...
I will be...
Suddenly, Mom moved my brother and I into her mom's across town. My dad stayed with the house. They said they were taking a break for a few weeks.
Those weeks turned into months.
And then, Mom said it would be about a year before we all moved back in. We saw our dad every Thursday night and every other weekend. We still attended the same schools. I wasn't as upset as I was just confused. Didn't I see them arguing? Didn't I see how unhappy they were? No...
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My brother and I quickly adjusted. We learned that all we needed to live was what we could pack into a backpack or two, and we carried those bags between houses. I soon became incapable of living without that bag, panicking if I left it behind. Somehow, keeping up with my stuff evoked more emotions than watching my parents struggle.
The divorce became permanent. Mom and Grandma moved into a new house even further away. My dad stayed in the same house by himself, and got more involved in the church and the people there. Mom gave me her old phone, my first phone, so that there could be open communication between houses.
Puberty had begun for me about the same time. That was honestly more concerning for me than the divorce. Mom was suddenly interested in my body, and my dad was disgusted and didn't want to know. My body ached and hurt and looked different, smelled different even.
Mom made me strip to check my body for signs of womanhood. She forced my arms above my head so she could sniff my armpits.
I felt I had no privacy anymore. I struggled to feel safe and secure in my own body. Any change in my body, I hid for as long as I could. I didn't want them to know anything about me anymore. I wanted a body that they'd never seen. A body that I could share with others, just not them.
Going into 6th grade, I became close with two more people. Danielle and J. And my relationship with the internet, the dirtier side of it, grew. My parents would never know would I was up to. They couldn't.
Danielle and I had sleepovers every week. Her house, then mine, then hers again. She had cats, which I loved because Mom would never let me have a cat. Her mom was very sweet and would fix us chocolate milk with Ovaltine.
She got her first phone that year on her birthday and I suddenly became irrelevant. She was always on it, on social media, texting people, or other things. I never knew what she did, she never let me see. Then again, there was plenty that I did behind closed doors that no one would ever know about.
We shared the same music, listening to mainly dubstep and nightcore. We watched our first anime together, and our first porn. We played Five Nights at Freddy's and became obsessed. We became obsessed with all of the same things. She was crazy in an almost scary but somewhat familiar way. I felt inadequate next to her sometimes, but she never told me I was any less than her, so I dealt.
J was different. He was a large, but quiet boy. He was funny when he felt comfortable, and he was protective of me. I loved it. He was also in art class with Danielle and I. He loved all things space and NASA. I tried to get into it, but it wasn't as easy to follow as my other interests.
