Slice of My Life
This is my first story and I want to know if I should continue with it. PLz comment and take the poll. <3
I'm sitting in my room. Some type of furniture or something unwanted is taking up my small green room, white ceiling, and every space available. This room is where I go to for peace in my apartment. I reflect and think in here about everything that happens or happened in my life hoping the next day would just be better. Something that always comes to mind is my relationship between my mom and my dad and how it affects me. I have to deal with the going to his house on certain weekends or not and staying home.
Every weekend I was a different person and oddly I was okay with that. I was being pulled
by at least one of my parents and didn't know who to go to. I always thought that my life was
made up of choices and decisions that someone else made for me. I didn't realize that the choice was staring at me in the face and I never really recognized it. The only time I really had a choice of what I wanted to do was at my dad's house in queens. The 3 floor house that held and holds so many memories. The top floor where my grandmother lives, the second floor where my aunt lives, and the basement where my dad spends most of his day on his own floor. He would only come up for food, bathroom, and socializing. When I was there I was 14 but here at my moms my age range can't be told. It changes just like I had to get used to the change of me switching to my dad or my mom on days of the week.
One day when I was with my mom and I just came back from my dad's house she asked me,
"Would you like to live with your dad? Every Sunday when you come back from there, you're different than when you left. If that reason is me then just go."
I didn't know what to say. She had never talked to me about this type of thing before and I was still in shock. She stared at me waiting for me to answer and all I said was,
"No, why would I leave you. Just different people so different feelings toward them and you."
What was I going to do.. My mom could be abusive at times. If I moved to my dads house, I would lose all of my friends and that one boy I love so much. So all I could say was....
**COMMMENT GUYS PLEASEEEE! AND TAKE THE POLL!!** <3
Every weekend I was a different person and oddly I was okay with that. I was being pulled
by at least one of my parents and didn't know who to go to. I always thought that my life was
made up of choices and decisions that someone else made for me. I didn't realize that the choice was staring at me in the face and I never really recognized it. The only time I really had a choice of what I wanted to do was at my dad's house in queens. The 3 floor house that held and holds so many memories. The top floor where my grandmother lives, the second floor where my aunt lives, and the basement where my dad spends most of his day on his own floor. He would only come up for food, bathroom, and socializing. When I was there I was 14 but here at my moms my age range can't be told. It changes just like I had to get used to the change of me switching to my dad or my mom on days of the week.
One day when I was with my mom and I just came back from my dad's house she asked me,
"Would you like to live with your dad? Every Sunday when you come back from there, you're different than when you left. If that reason is me then just go."
I didn't know what to say. She had never talked to me about this type of thing before and I was still in shock. She stared at me waiting for me to answer and all I said was,
"No, why would I leave you. Just different people so different feelings toward them and you."
What was I going to do.. My mom could be abusive at times. If I moved to my dads house, I would lose all of my friends and that one boy I love so much. So all I could say was....
**COMMMENT GUYS PLEASEEEE! AND TAKE THE POLL!!** <3
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