ABI
When I was younger, I loved watching Hannah Montana. It was my favourite show. I guess I just loved the idea someone having two lives. Some days I wish I had two lives. Or maybe that my life could be switched for even just a day. Anyway, I loved Hannah Montana and I went by a lot of the things she said. One always stood out to me though. "Nobody's perfect," she said. I believe that. Or at least I did.
When I was little, believing that nobody was perfect wasn't very hard. I lived a life that I thought was 'normal' but as I got a bit older, and went to my friends houses to play or to go to birthday parties or even just saw them and their families, I slowly began to realise that having an alcoholic mother and imprisoned father apparently wasn't 'normal'. I didn't ask my mum about it of course. At the time she was just my angry mother. I didn't understand that those drinks were bad or that they were making my mother angry and out of control.
When I was about 6, I noticed everyone's mums and dads had jobs. When I asked my mum why she didn't work, she took a few deep breaths and laughed a little, then looked me in the eye and said, "oh Abi, I need to stay and look after you." I never questioned that answer. I never questioned anything she said. She said she'd love me forever. That she wouldn't anything hurt me. That my daddy would come home one night and tuck me into bed. I'm 15 now. She doesn't love me. She lets everyone hurt me, including herself and that silly daddy promise? A bunch of crap.
When I was about 12, I found out what alcohol was, and what it did, and that it was addictive, and that people used it to cover their shame or sadness or whatever. The day I learnt all that, was the day I learnt my mother in fact was an alcoholic. I went home that day from school and asked my mum. There was no laughing. Just yelling. And hitting. And pushing. She wasn't happy. And neither was I. I had every right to be unhappy with her. She lied to me for 12 years until I had to find out the truth myself. That was not fair.
The 3 years between then and now weren't fun. I was physically and verbally abused by my own mother. She hates me. As for my father, I still don't know him. I know was charged a lifetime sentence for third degree murder. He was on drugs. Through that time of my life there were ups and downs. Mostly downs. An up however, was the day Charlie McGreen came to my school.
Charlie, chocolate brown, wavy, just under the ear length hair, gorgeous, blue eyes, was amazing. The day he walked into the classroom, like he was walking on clouds, so effortless, like there was no care in the world for him, I will never forget. That day, I almost believed there was a perfect person on this very imperfect earth. I had to convince myself multiple times that he had a fault but for as long as I can remember, I searched for one. The searching was very unproductive as nearly every time I got lost in his ocean eyes.
If I could live anywhere, it would be at the ocean. It's so carefree there. And when that carefree life isn't so carefree, you can just dive into the water and experience something so magical, so beautiful, so unexplainable, no one could ever imagine. It's like a whole new world down there, a whole new life. Which, is what I'd like to experience.
When I was 14, I ran away from home. I only made it to the small town next to ours before my mother came chasing me down in her old, smashed up Honda. As much as she hates me, she's scared that if i leave, I'll tell on her and get her in trouble. She's made it painfully clear to me that no one will know about her secrets, her addictions, her behaviour and certainly not that my father is John Smith. My mother changed both mine and her own last names after he was sentenced. We took her maiden name, Willow, as if they had gotten a divorce. Ever since I ran away, I have had a very strict schedule:
Get up- 6am
Get on the bus~ am - 8am
Get on the bus~ pm - 3:10pm
Get home- 3:20pm
Bed- 7pm
She doesn't trust me but that's okay because I don't trust her either.
