Disgust

I sat utterly disgusted at myself inside of my bed, flabbergasted at myself. I was a terrible human being, I was sure. I was so rich as to live in this prep boy club of an apartment complex! There is so much more space than most places.  What the fuck was I doing here?

Than I traced it throught my head when the change occured.  My mom got married.  

We were broke as a family ( I love how pretentious that looks right now), living on a trailer outside of my grandmothers farm. My mom was a shell of a person, paraylized with fear of raising three kids on her own inside of country, southern Illinois (its not rural fuck you, it was country to me).  She made the move that she had to go back to school, and we loaded up on goverment aid and loans and packed up to SIUC carbondale.  Fun time, a single mother with three kids trying to become a paralegal, or a typist for the courtrooms(don't know what they are called). With three kids at home, there were clearly a little fucked up.  We scream basic explination of a single family.

The Oldest kid is a hero.

The youngest is a mommas boy

The middle is quite.

We lived in a three bedroom apartment, and I have no fucking idea how we did it. Thank fucking god for food stamps, and thank god for student loans. She got a job and we left the apartment to a spacious shitty home, again three bedrooms, but southern Illinois but still. It was terrible.

For a while me and my brother during the summer were at a day care where I experinced racism for the first time directed at me.  I might talk about that later, but being the only white kid in a all black daycare, (actually one other white kid) and I was odd man out picked on quite a bit. A drug deal happened in front of the daycare while we were outside and we couldn't go back.  Than it was to biblecare, a worse hell. Eventually it was "I am going to die poor like this" from my mom (11 dollars an hour with all that debt and three kids). Big move up to STL.

We go to the lovely town and four. There was government assisted living on the other side of the lack. The weekend we moved in there was a stabbing on the corner of the street. 

It was awesome, finally other kids and close.  

Than it happened. We moved from town and four into a actual house, finally my own room. The quality of the house just went up and up.  This was during high school, where I had been raised with much less, to see such a drastic change progressively I missed it. Things were still broken, and my mom was working 50 hours a week at the lawfirm. 

Than she met Gary.  Than I got a laptop before I went to school, than we started to eat a lot better, than got a new stove, a new fridge. My moms car is pretty new and pretty nice. I can't tell if shes happy. I can't tell, and it makes me very very sad.