I'm just ranting

The first time I realized I had to grow up

I was too young to have to grow up, and you'll all think I'm probably pathetic, but I was only about 6. My biological father left when I was ALMOST 3, but I still talked to him over the phone and stuff till I was like 5, so I remember him as SOME sort of figure in my life. When my mom explained to me that "daddy was being naughty" it was right after the last time I ever spoke to him.

I still remember the conversation. I remember being at my step dads house, sitting on top of a square cooler that we kept in the house to hold stuff. My. Brother gave me the phone and I said to him,

"Daddy, if you don't stop being a bad guy I can't be your princess anymore." And he said to me, "I know, baby, I'm trying."

He promised a 6 year old little girl that he was gonna try, but he lied. I knew that daddy wasn't a good guy when he went to jail after that. And soon after he went to prison, and he's not getting out until I'm 18.

Don't get me wrong I LOVE my step dad. I consider him my real dad, but for people out there who don't know what it's like to come from a broken family, it's like you where given an amazing gift that you took for granted, and then someone took that gift away.

It's also this sense of abandonment. The person who helped create you should want to keep you. The artist should want to keep his works safe, but instead he threw out his art to let someone else take on the glory of his creation.

I thought that no force on Earth could ever break a parent away from a child, especially when they had the CHOICE to stay.