My Life.

This isn't a poem. This is more of a story of my life. The reason behind most of my poems. My parents had awful childhoods and weren't raised well at all. They always had it rough. My mom. She got into crack and alcohol. Most likely to numb the pain of losing her parents a month apart because they both had cancer. My dad started drinking and smoking pot at a young age. Their lives were falling apart. As they got older, they straightened up a bit and my mom married some guy and had two kids with him. Then she divorced him, met my dad, married him, and had my brother and I. Dad never worked because he claimed disability because he "hurt" his back running heavy machinery. My mom had the only income that supported our household. My dad got addicted to pills. Taking them, buying and selling them. When my brother and I were just babies, (he's one year older than me) our parents were heavy drinkers and smoked pot. They did this continuously throughout the years. We didn't have a normal childhood. We got our clothes from secondhand stores and never got anything we wanted. We got our ass beat for asking to go a friend's house. We spent our time in our room, or outside, pathetically finding ways to entertain ourselves for 12 hours a day. We lived in a two bedroom, one bathroom trailer, so space was limited. My brother and I shared a room, while my mom had the other room. And my dad slept on the couch for a couple years. When I was 6, my oldest brother from my moms ex husband molested me. I never told.  I just felt nasty. I didn't want to tell mom or dad. I was scared. When I was about 9, I started noticing what my parents were addicted to. We went without basic necessities and even food sometimes. They spent all their money buying pills, pot and alcohol. I got beat, spanked, slapped  and hit so I would keep my mouth shut. This went on until I was 13. I was cut off from the world and had no friends. My parents kept me in my room. I didn't have a phone, or internet. So I had no way to talk to anyone. Money was tight, so my dad resorted to stealing my money that I got for my birthday or Christmas to feed his addictions. I hated my life and everyone around me. I was being bullied at school because didn't have the best clothes or nice things. Because I was quiet and was so skinny that I looked sick. My dad downgraded me, every chance he got. Calling me an ugly freak, and said that no one loved me. He said that disowned me. My self esteem was so low and I felt so disgusting from being molested. I discovered self harm when I was 13. I had no feelings and hated the world. So I started cutting. So deep that I could see my muscles inside my skin. I still hated my appearance. So I started starving myself and purging. I developed anorexia nervosa and bulimia nervosa. I turned 14 and I weighed 85 pounds. I was nothing but skin and bones. Still unhappy with my appearance cutting, starving, and purging got worse. I developed severe panic attacks and asthma. Home life got worse. So I decided to take my life. I slit my wrists, swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, dropped to my knees and started praying for God to accept me into Heaven where I could be truly happy. As I am here, writing this, you can see that I did not succeed  in taking my life. I started getting drunk, dating assholes(still a virgin), taking mom's cigarettes. I was a rebellious teen with problems. My 23 year old sister noticed how bad things were and we moved in with her. Things got better. I've got an amazing boyfriend who made everything okay. He accepts me for me. 10-4-12. <3 I lived with her for about 6 months into my freshman year of high school. In the meantime, Mom and dad were pretending to straighten up,  just to get us back. So she forced us to move back in. I have a difficult time seeing my boyfriend now because they don't trust me. I used to get my ass beat for even saying a guy was cute. Things are somewhat better. I gained a little weight. I weigh 100 pounds now. I don't purge anymore. I've been clean from cutting for about two months now. I plan on graduating high school, getting an apartment, and going to college with my boyfriend.  We are going to move away from here, get married, and I'm going to make sure that my children don't have the life that I did.  
 
UPDATE 12/29/13  
 
Things went to shit again shortly after I wrote this. The last thing I had said was I was living back with my parents again, but that only lasted for a few months. But I had a terrible break down one night and I caused my parents to get a divorce because my dad made my mom choose between him and my brother and I. She chose us, so we lay our heads too sleep one last time in that house to rest, before my life became hell. Sometime that night, my dad got up and stole all of my mother's money and went out and got drunk and pulled one of his "I'm gonna stay out for a few days and they'll get worried about me and want me home" stunts, but little did he know, that as soon as we all woke up and found the money and himself gone, my brother and I packed our things and went to live with my other brother and his wife's family friends house. We lived there for a few months. And my mother went to stay with my sister. We all separated, except me and my brother. Who had survived all this shit together or whole lives. After living there for a while,  
My brother and his wife got a house of their own, so we went to live there with them. By this time, I was a sophomore in high school and struggling to stay in school. We all started fighting constantly and never got along. And throughout this entire thing, I had managed to keep my boyfriend of almost two years, (the one I bragged about in the first entry) but we broke up the end of my sophomore year because he was overly religious and tried to covert me constantly. He was controlling and obsessive. Almost to the point of being a stalker. And he ended up raping me and taking my virginity. I was at my best friend's house the day I left him and he drove 45 miles from where he lived to come cry and beg me to take him back, but I never did because I was sexually involved with another guy. But this other guy wound up fucking me over, too. So I stayed single. On my birthday, the summer before I started my junior year of high school, I moved in with my best friends and my brother moved in with my sister, while my mother moved states and my father was MIA for almost two years after the blow up that caused all of this. Things got so much fucking better after I moved in with my best friends. They adopted me and made me feel at home. After two years of moving. Around 7-10 times (some are unaccounted for), I finally found a permanent home. I stabilized, I even learned to love again. To trust. I've been with my boyfriend for 8 months and this time, I know he's a keeper. He's my idea of perfection. Love him. I've failed to find medication that helps with my depression, anxiety, or psychological trauma yet, but I'm getting a bit better. I have servere night terrors constantly. I don't sleep or eat much, and I don't trust a whole lot of people. I still haven't heard from my father in 2 and a half years. And I don't plan to. My siblings are doing well despite all we've gone through. I speak to my mother a couple times a month, but she's of doing her own thing. I turn 17 in 4 months, and I'll be a senior in 5 months. I'm proud of myself because I managed to struggle through high school in the midst of all this, and not drop out, while getting really good grades. I've decided I'm going to school to get my degree in veterinary medicine and move states as soon as possible so I can leave all ing the bad memories behind and start a new life with my boyfriend and potentially have children.
I still live with my best friends, my adopted family. They deserve much more than I could ever give them..
Well... thanks for reading! (: