Just letters, and thoughs.

Abusive parents are truly one of a kind. They will literally force you to do things for them, and then claim you don't do anything, you're just a waste, call you slurs and whatnot.

When you try to stand up for yourself and they come at your face and intimidate you with their shoutings and their eyes...you know things can get physical and you would not stand a chance. It's literally one of the worst feelings, to know that you are not old enough to get out, that they can and will physically hurt you and no one will bat an eye. The country I live in, Dominican Republic, encourages people to hit on their children. A form of education, they say.

Home is not just the place we grew up in; it is every place we've been in our past, that we cannot return to. Home is the memories we've made in the good old days that were not so good anyways, home is that wall in school that we used to lean against in between breaks, the patio from our old house, and the little store that is not open anymore, and everything we imagine when we think about the good parts of our past. Home is our best friend, that one loved one -family or not, home is just home.

I guess some people just have to hate to feel good about themselves, not because they're evil, but because they don't know otherwise. That doesn't mean it's right.

I think that, deep down, we are all the same. We have to be, otherwise, it wouldn't make sense. I don't say it in a "we are all the same person, this is a sketch" type of way. I say it in a "we are humans, if we think hard enough, we will see the memories of that person we didn't meet but lived" type of way.

Me: "buys something

Mom: "uses it

Me: "says nothing

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Me: "uses something my mom bought but doesn't use

Mom: WTF!? I have told you not to use my things!! You are such a %&$%!!