'My Life - It\'s Just Me'

'18 days ago, I was born(p) into the Masters family. I had a grand florists chrysanthemum and the stovepipe dad in the world. My dad was honestly my first whop; I was the apple of his eye. It sounds weird, scarce if you wouldve seen how shut disclose he and I were, you would hump where I was coming from with what I was trying to say. I wasnt the wholly one who throw off in fuck with my dad. My Mom did too. I eer love to watch them disturb along, and when they fought, it wasnt for long. They were in love, and that love make me, and they loved me as to a greater extent than as they loved each(prenominal) other. My dad and I did so much to approachher go florists chrysanthemum was at work. Its the fictitious character of relationship that could honestly make a lot of people jealous. He was not, nevertheless when my father. He was withal my better friend. I could joke around with him about anything, he was always thither to make me laugh and he always made m e purport wish I was the most authorised thing to him in the world. I guess being his solely daughter, of course I was, but he always gave his financial aid to my mom too. No one was ever left out in my house. I cant tell you how more memories we had in that house. and it tangle like I only had a bypass time with my dad, he left on March 4, 2006. I was only 10, but because I couldnt really recover any memories from when I was a baby, it felt like I only spend about 5 years with him. At first I was so sad, and boldness broken, because I had hardly lost my shell friend. After a while, I got so angry and selfish, I would occasionally call up wherefore? Why did you abandon me and my mom? We both compulsion you, I have I admit you, you were my first friend, and the best thing that has ever happened to me. The years after(prenominal) that were basically hell. I was always angry, and depressed. I didnt know what to think. I started performing out with my mom, I stopped l istening, and I stopped caring. As I grew older, I rebelled more and more each and any day. \nOn a good day, my mom and I would get along, and I was scratch to pick myself...'