People were asking everybody's worst days ever Shouts of, "I lost my phone!" and "My brother kicked me!" rang through the room. They came to me, reading my book, asked, "What was your worst day?" I replied to them, "The day I got an A-." Like they expected. They rolled their eyes, laughed, and went on with their lives. And they never payed it a second thought. They didn't hear how I hesitated before speaking. They didn't see my hands fidgeting under the table. They didn't feel the slight panic that went through my body when they asked me. They didn't understand that what I said was a complete lie. They didn't understand that that A- led to hours of comparisons to my sisters and screaming. And it was bad, but not NEARLY my "worst day ever." If you asked me for the truth, I'd be listing until I died. I never had a Worst day ever. I had a worst life ever. Up until I was 6, I was happy. Like, actually happy. Daddy wasn't sick anymore. Mommy didn't cry. Sisters included me. (Sometimes) Gramma and Grampa were still young You didn't stress about you cat dying. You didn't stress about Sisters hitting you. (You were always protected by Daddy) You didn't stress about friends secretly hating you. You didn't stress about Mommy finding the marks on your arms. You didn't stress about Gramma and Grampa getting too old. You didn't stress about Sisters reading your books. You didn't stress about Mommy finding out. You never had any secrets. No double life. No more seizures leaving you sitting in your sister's room with Auntie and Gramma waiting for Mommy and Daddy to come home from the hospital. No more wheelchairs and nursing homes and physical therapy and Daddy on a cot with tubes in his arms. No more plugged ears and closed eyes when Daddy started trembling. No more quick glances when Daddy started getting shaky hands at random times. No more sickness. You didn't understand that every day with Daddy might be your last. You didn't understand that cancer never really goes away. You thought that Daddy was safe forever. Daddy said he wasn't sick anymore. Daddy lied.
Please don't report this. I just needed a place to get this out, and Scratch is the only safe place I have left.
