The fact is, it's been 8 months since my sister died. She was younger but yet so much stronger. Litter but had a much bigger heart. Her eyes were always open to the world around her, she never worried just lived her life as it was. She stayed strong until the end.
My dad left when I was 4, my sister was just born and he couldn't handle both of us apparently. As he walked away he never looked back. He broke our family apart. And caused ellie and I to have anxiety.
We both took meds to help us work through our problems. Those didn't work for me, for ellie (my little sister) was another story. She used them regularly and got through most. I would overdose and lose control.
Moms an alcoholic, and a drug abuser . I work 10 hours just to pay the bills. She could never quiet take care of us, although she never even tried.
I always asked my self, what's the point of living? My whole life is shit especially my past.
My brother was adopted out of our family, we had no money to take care of him. He was diagnosed with pots disease. That's when you sit up to fast or, run/move to fast you faint. He never really cared, that's why he let himself go. He's long gone but no one really notices.
The fact is it's been 8 months and I still haven't escaped the right grasps of my abuser, my step dad.