Growing up, I lived with my grandparents. I couldn’t tell them anything. I’d always feel like they would judge me. My brother was the only one that would be there for me, who would help me get my mind off of things, we would play basketball, throw the football around. Maybe even some baseball. My grandparents always treated me differently from my brother. At first, that’s not something I noticed. But as I got older I noticed it, I brought it up to my grandma and she told me that I was crazy and that she loved us both equally. When they got my brother and I’s report card, my brother and I were failing a couple classes. My grandma’s husband looked at my brother and told him that he could easily get those grades up if he worked at it. He then looked at me and told me I wasn’t going to get anywhere. He was my older brother and I always looked up to him and no matter what my grandparents said about me and about him I never hated him. He was my best friend. When I was about 14 I started getting tired of treated like I was nobody. I was tired of telling them something and getting ignored and shut out. Every time I came out of my room, they got quiet and stopped talking. Then when I stayed in my room I would always hear them laughing and being a family. So I stayed in my room more frequently. I would get yelled at and told that I was always on my phone and that I was lazy for staying in my room all day. I could do the dishes for a couple days straight, and then when I took a break and stopped doing the dishes, my grandma’s husband, would tell me that I couldn’t do anything without being told to do it. I would yell back and tell him that wasn’t true. He never listened. I tried telling my grandma and she ignored me. I started acting out. I stopped talking to them, I went out without telling them. I got in trouble a lot more. I didn’t mind getting in trouble then because I knew what I was getting in trouble for. There was a big event that happened, grandma’s husband (we’ll just call him M) got really upset and yelled. My aunt came to pick me up and I stayed with her for a couple days. The day that I made up my mind about where I wanted to stay and who I wanted to stay with, my brother picked me up from school and drove me to the house to pack my things. My aunt told me he was going to drive me over there and when he took me to the house we got into an argument. He told me to stay in the car until M and my grandma got back. My brother drove me to my aunt’s house in my grandma’s car. It was really difficult, I wish I could go back and redo what had happened. The next day my grandma bought me a plane ticket. I said goodbye to my aunt and gave her a hug before I got on the plane. I’m now staying with my parents. I wish I could’ve said goodbye to my brother, I haven’t talked to him. I’m afraid to. I mean, what if he doesn’t think of me as a sister anymore? What if he’s still made? I ask myself those questions everyday. I let the fear stop me from doing something I should do. Don’t be afraid of saying sorry. Don’t be afraid of letting go, don’t be afraid to care. I didn’t say goodbye to my brother because I was afraid he hated me for everything that happened. I wouldn’t blame him if he did, but he’s family. I know If I could ever get over that fear and if I ever forgive myself, I’ll pick up the phone and I’ll call him. I know the relationship we had won’t be the same as before. But at least I would know he’s there. At least he’ll still be in my life. Those relationships aren’t something you should be afraid of getting back. If I had another chance I would redo everything just to not lose him. I’ll get over the fear eventually, it’ll be hard but I now know that I have people in my life who will walk me through it. The pain doesn’t always go away, and it’s not the painful memories that hurt, its the happy ones. Wounds heal with time, don’t give up. Let yourself heal, you deserve to.
Thank you.