(no subject)
the name is karina and this can be my life story,
born 3-11-91 boston mass. a happy child. tiny like my mother and tall like my father grew up in the city till age 8 4 years after my little sister was born. She was a small chubby girl. That girl was always bound to be trouble, lucky for her she wasn't born when i was. Watching my parents fight while i stared from the crib living at my fathers parents house and everyone at work. Dad the typical worker. All day good paying job, worked with cars and came home late. My mother was an outsider and a foreigner. Of course she had that amazing accent from where she came from and her looks were stunning; short, curly long hair, thin, tan, just a lovely mother. Nothing she said ever made sense to anyone. It didn't matter though. She was still amazing in every way. Grew up in a dirt poor country got married and had a child, he left her and she was left with nothing, she gave up her child and left for a totally different world. America the land of the free, yeah some freedom here. She had nothing moving in with her aunt alone only about 20, getting married again this time to a guy who already had a kid, working a part time job so she could take care of his kid, not much of a life if you ask me i find it more of a slow death sentence to insanity. A man who takes advantage of his wife doesn't seem much of a man to me, seems more like a stupid jerk looking for an easy way out of parenting. Which is where she comes to meet my father. A handsome guy with a nice car, what woman wouldn't fall all over that? The fact that she worked at the gym where he was working out at was even better to my mom, showed her that he cares for himself. How stupid she was. A few months later she rolled out another divorce and a little after that a new fast paced marriage. This time the marriage would last, just months after the marriage a baby pops out. This is the part where i come into play. You know, all that stuff i said at the beginning. Yeah thats all me. Expected to be brilliant but not smart enough to understand the words of my parents at age three. My mothers screams still ring in my head and my fathers shouts follow me till this day. He was a drunk and she was just plain stupid, Im not going to lie my mother was also a cheat but she was just mostly stupid. Its not as though my handsome father kept it in his pants either, so there was kind of an equality to their marriage. I was the one stuck in the middle playing with the barbies my family had bought me every birthday and christmas and easter, watching and listening to all that was around me. If you were to look back then you would think of me as a stupid child with not a cell in her brain just staring at the world with big brown eyes or paying no attention except to the doll in her hand, but i could hear and see everything in my mind. I could smell and taste things that you would never believe. My memories haunt me each and every passing day that creeps past me. The screams, the cries for help, the tears, the smell of musty alcohol and the texture of un-needed lies. I don't pretend as if i was some sort of genius baby, because believe me i was not. I may have been smart but i was no fucking genius, i can still hardly remember where ohio is. I only remember the sadness and the fear and all those slow journal heartbreaks. A fond memories of mine of course because you know how remembering your stupid mothers cries of heartbreak from the bathroom always soothed your dreams. Watching her topple down the stairs closely followed by a heavy dresser draw, watching her scream and tears flow with my father rushing down the stair and my mother, vase in her hand ready to pull a catapult. Oh how i adore that memoir. Nothing puts me to sleep at night better then that. Or no maybe the time when my mother tried to capture my sister and I to bring us back to her country. At age eight i was considered a teen, a makeup wearing teen, age thirteen i was considered a mother and now at age 15 i am considered a full time adult. Caring for myself alone, moved out of the parents house, who are still together and hatefully married by the way. I now live with my grandparents and their 34 year old son with his 30 year old girlfriend, which i must admit isn't horrible. I adore my uncles girlfriend of 7 years and i love my uncle and all his amazing paintings. I think the only thing that gets me is the stress and pressure to be the adult i an considered to be. I can feel it building up inside of me, i try to hold it all in being the best i can be, doing my work from this backwards all girls (CATHOLIC) school. I am trying my best but it seems to not be good enough for anyone. Especially my drill sergeant aunt who believes that i could know everything if i wanted to but i am just to lazy and stuck in my own world. I am not lazy though really, i just always have plenty on my mind to think of much else. Wouldn't you to if you had lived the life i have? I mean sixth grade fell in love-hardcore love, eighth grade tried to commit suicide multiple times and had a huge loss of blood, ninth grade hell, meet a stupid guy who has nothing but ego in mind, plenty of that high school drama came my way. I guess i sucked it up pretty well because in that same year i ran into another guy same age same story, large ego, but nicer, his girl, well that was a whole different story. So now onto tenth grade, ha-ha what a memory this is going to be, meet a guy, stupid, immature, egotistical boy, annoying as hell, and a cocky one to. This boy thinks he's found love? All the things he says makes me a little ill but he was cute enough so i played along of course, ignoring the fact that i was a huge liar to him and you will probably hate me for what i am about to say but i really don't need you to like me. I just told him i loved him back so he would stop to bitch at me like he always did. I ended up leaving my parents house in maine to head back to the big city of boston where i was born, moving in with the g-rents. Alone, unknowing of the people around me, being forced to grow up quickly, i take it all in. Not like it would matter much what i have to say anyways, never really did. I am used to this, not being heard and not really having people to care about what you have to say anyways. Its not like adults believe teenagers anyways. Eventually we get sick of it all and just run away anyways right? So why would/should they care? I mean its not like the teenagers are the future of the world anyways, its not like what the adults have any effect on us anyways, so why the hell should they care? Their not the ones who will have to deal with us when we get old, cause i mean were only going to rule the world. So why shouldn't they fuck us up even more now, and why shouldn't the media jump in to, to tell us how fat were all getting so we can all earn more eating disorders. Maybe we should just jump down each-others throats more so we can all be scatter brains and hate each-other more then we already do. That would be a grand old idea. The more heart breaks the better right? Thats what the media always says.
born 3-11-91 boston mass. a happy child. tiny like my mother and tall like my father grew up in the city till age 8 4 years after my little sister was born. She was a small chubby girl. That girl was always bound to be trouble, lucky for her she wasn't born when i was. Watching my parents fight while i stared from the crib living at my fathers parents house and everyone at work. Dad the typical worker. All day good paying job, worked with cars and came home late. My mother was an outsider and a foreigner. Of course she had that amazing accent from where she came from and her looks were stunning; short, curly long hair, thin, tan, just a lovely mother. Nothing she said ever made sense to anyone. It didn't matter though. She was still amazing in every way. Grew up in a dirt poor country got married and had a child, he left her and she was left with nothing, she gave up her child and left for a totally different world. America the land of the free, yeah some freedom here. She had nothing moving in with her aunt alone only about 20, getting married again this time to a guy who already had a kid, working a part time job so she could take care of his kid, not much of a life if you ask me i find it more of a slow death sentence to insanity. A man who takes advantage of his wife doesn't seem much of a man to me, seems more like a stupid jerk looking for an easy way out of parenting. Which is where she comes to meet my father. A handsome guy with a nice car, what woman wouldn't fall all over that? The fact that she worked at the gym where he was working out at was even better to my mom, showed her that he cares for himself. How stupid she was. A few months later she rolled out another divorce and a little after that a new fast paced marriage. This time the marriage would last, just months after the marriage a baby pops out. This is the part where i come into play. You know, all that stuff i said at the beginning. Yeah thats all me. Expected to be brilliant but not smart enough to understand the words of my parents at age three. My mothers screams still ring in my head and my fathers shouts follow me till this day. He was a drunk and she was just plain stupid, Im not going to lie my mother was also a cheat but she was just mostly stupid. Its not as though my handsome father kept it in his pants either, so there was kind of an equality to their marriage. I was the one stuck in the middle playing with the barbies my family had bought me every birthday and christmas and easter, watching and listening to all that was around me. If you were to look back then you would think of me as a stupid child with not a cell in her brain just staring at the world with big brown eyes or paying no attention except to the doll in her hand, but i could hear and see everything in my mind. I could smell and taste things that you would never believe. My memories haunt me each and every passing day that creeps past me. The screams, the cries for help, the tears, the smell of musty alcohol and the texture of un-needed lies. I don't pretend as if i was some sort of genius baby, because believe me i was not. I may have been smart but i was no fucking genius, i can still hardly remember where ohio is. I only remember the sadness and the fear and all those slow journal heartbreaks. A fond memories of mine of course because you know how remembering your stupid mothers cries of heartbreak from the bathroom always soothed your dreams. Watching her topple down the stairs closely followed by a heavy dresser draw, watching her scream and tears flow with my father rushing down the stair and my mother, vase in her hand ready to pull a catapult. Oh how i adore that memoir. Nothing puts me to sleep at night better then that. Or no maybe the time when my mother tried to capture my sister and I to bring us back to her country. At age eight i was considered a teen, a makeup wearing teen, age thirteen i was considered a mother and now at age 15 i am considered a full time adult. Caring for myself alone, moved out of the parents house, who are still together and hatefully married by the way. I now live with my grandparents and their 34 year old son with his 30 year old girlfriend, which i must admit isn't horrible. I adore my uncles girlfriend of 7 years and i love my uncle and all his amazing paintings. I think the only thing that gets me is the stress and pressure to be the adult i an considered to be. I can feel it building up inside of me, i try to hold it all in being the best i can be, doing my work from this backwards all girls (CATHOLIC) school. I am trying my best but it seems to not be good enough for anyone. Especially my drill sergeant aunt who believes that i could know everything if i wanted to but i am just to lazy and stuck in my own world. I am not lazy though really, i just always have plenty on my mind to think of much else. Wouldn't you to if you had lived the life i have? I mean sixth grade fell in love-hardcore love, eighth grade tried to commit suicide multiple times and had a huge loss of blood, ninth grade hell, meet a stupid guy who has nothing but ego in mind, plenty of that high school drama came my way. I guess i sucked it up pretty well because in that same year i ran into another guy same age same story, large ego, but nicer, his girl, well that was a whole different story. So now onto tenth grade, ha-ha what a memory this is going to be, meet a guy, stupid, immature, egotistical boy, annoying as hell, and a cocky one to. This boy thinks he's found love? All the things he says makes me a little ill but he was cute enough so i played along of course, ignoring the fact that i was a huge liar to him and you will probably hate me for what i am about to say but i really don't need you to like me. I just told him i loved him back so he would stop to bitch at me like he always did. I ended up leaving my parents house in maine to head back to the big city of boston where i was born, moving in with the g-rents. Alone, unknowing of the people around me, being forced to grow up quickly, i take it all in. Not like it would matter much what i have to say anyways, never really did. I am used to this, not being heard and not really having people to care about what you have to say anyways. Its not like adults believe teenagers anyways. Eventually we get sick of it all and just run away anyways right? So why would/should they care? I mean its not like the teenagers are the future of the world anyways, its not like what the adults have any effect on us anyways, so why the hell should they care? Their not the ones who will have to deal with us when we get old, cause i mean were only going to rule the world. So why shouldn't they fuck us up even more now, and why shouldn't the media jump in to, to tell us how fat were all getting so we can all earn more eating disorders. Maybe we should just jump down each-others throats more so we can all be scatter brains and hate each-other more then we already do. That would be a grand old idea. The more heart breaks the better right? Thats what the media always says.