Mom passed away when I was 6 months old. People always say sorry and I just brush it off like its no big deal because I was a baby but It is a huge deal because it’s probably a huge reason why I am the way I am. I grew up raised by my grandmother and she never told me how my mom actually died. All she would tell me was she had a diary and in it, it said how she did not want to live. Didn’t want to live with a 6 month old child? why? My grandma said I could read it when i’m old enough. Still havent seen it to this day. Being raised by an immigrant grand parent was difficult because she never understood the social norms of american society. I grew up learning everything as I went on my own. My dad was there but lived alone working as a minimum wage mechanic always with different girlfriends. As I got older I put 2 and 2 together and figured that my mom was just another girl to him. I have a half brother that my father always favored more. He bullied me quite a bit in my younger days and whenever I would try to tell on him my dad would never care. I havent seen them both in over 10 years. Good riddance I guess. My grandmother ALWAYS wanted the best for me and she did do a lot. She cared…she definitely cared. She would try to get me to not go out and be a trouble maker she would try to get me to stop hanging out with certain types of people and she would always try to help me out whenever she could. for that I am forever grateful. She moved to Vietnam over 4 years ago to try to fight for a house that she grew up in as a child that the government is trying to take. I have not talked to her in about 3 years. I dont know why and I feel like its been so long it will be weird now. I’m scared I guess. She calls but I keep avoiding them. ugh. I think about it and get angry but I cannot bring myself to answer the fucking phone.
It seems like I stop talking to a lot of people who care about me. I have a Step dad that actually sued for custody because he thought I was his actual child which was weird because he is 100 percent not my dad but still won. I would see him every other weekend and he did love me. When I turned 18 i didn’t see him that often till I came to live with him when I was about 23. He was a good guy with good lessons but always didn’t believe anything till he saw it. I moved out awhile ago and havent really talked to him since…again..I dont know why I avoid the calls. What is it with me? I must be crazy. I feel like i’m rushing through a lot of details but I don’t know if I could handle digging through the emotions while writing I guess i’ll keep trying.