Borderline Broken

How's this my fault exactly?

It was a gloomy November evening when I was born...Yes even from the beginning. The damn weather knew it was going to be a shit show from the start. But I guess we don't have to start back this early. 

Lets jump to about 2007. I was 8. Damien was 6 and my youngest brother was 2.

I always noticed that I was treated differently than my brothers, it was never a shocker to anybody. Including my own family members on the outside looking in. I never got the newest clothes, or the newest toys. Which, okay, not every kid needs them, some people are poor. But when my brothers got the newest everything, and were "royalty" thats when shit got shady!

Lets keep in mind, my grandparents were saints and tried there best with me while I was helping them raise my brothers, but this isn't about the positive stuff...oh no!

I tried to get away the best I could from home, when I was allowed. Whether that was staying over at a friends, or another family members. I tried to be as far away as possible. My parents were MAJOR alcoholics, could never admit it. Even when my brother, at like 6, begged them to stop because it hurted his heart, it didn't stop. But like I said. My brothers were a whole different ball game. 

I wasn't a girl. That was my first fucking mistake folks. Did I have a penis? NOPE. So therefore, I was TRASH. It was made very clear to my aunt, when Heather came to her door with adoption papers for me and asked her to sign them and her only reason was ; I was a girl. The only reason those papers didn't get signed is because she didn't want to be viewed as a "bad mom". HA>HA> Well your on blast now lady, everybody already knows your a tool. 

Within saying this, my childhood was one of some sort of special. And I learned from a young age, I don't speak about what goes on at home or ill never make it to a safe place...little me didn't know about heaven really, cause that would have been better than living through hell. 

From the ages of 6-13, (13 being when my bio's got divorced)                                                                                I practically raised my brothers. Again, with help from grandparents, but if we were not at their house. It was all me. I have a scar on my middle finger, left hand from trying to open a noodle sauce packet with a knife to feed my brothers because heather didn't want to get off the couch and we hadn't eaten anything all day. I sliced right through my finger and Dr said if I went any further, I would have hit the bone and bye bye fingie. 

I didn't understand anything different. So it was hard to stand up for myself and obviously CAS did jack all to try and help us. Throughout my childhood to even teenage years, I called or had them called at least 6 times and look how far it got us. NOT VERY! 

But were no where near the good stuff yet...