#shittyparents

I can’t help but think about how fucked up it was that my parents would fight basically every single day.

It would get physical.

My dad didn’t ‘hit’ my mom.

But he grabbed her.

Pulled her hair.

Threatened to leave.

She didn’t speak English.

She was a homemaker.

She would fight back still.

She still took care of him as he slowly died.

It’s been years since he passed away and I still can’t get past the trauma seeing that, hearing the yelling.

Constantly being threatened with the belt or my father walking out.

I remember he would leave sometimes and drive around the block sometimes and I’d have to choose between him and my mom.

I couldn’t leave her.

But he made it seem damn easy to leave us.

Even if he didn’t.

That really fucked me up.

Fuck everything.

I raised you. Not them. Not for these past three years at least.

Who was the one who taught you all you needed to know about sex besides endlessly penis-vagina pummeling?

Who was the one who answered questions they wouldn’t even fucking answer even though it was their fucking job? 

Did they want to keep you powerless or did they just not care? Why did I, your best friend, a fellow teenager, teach you more than they ever did?

Because I’m the one who actually loved you. And now they’re trying to claim you, close you off from me, because they only become interested in you when it’s to keep you from something.

I have to sit back and watch them pretend to love you online like they don’t mock you, demean you, and shame you behind closed doors. I watch them plaster their fake love everywhere and I can’t even share my real love because people will say it’s wrong.