2020 ends tomorrow and i’ve realized that it’s time to let the hurt go. so here goes nothin.

growing up my brother was (and still is) addicted to heroin. with that, i spent my childhood watching my parents fall apart. mentally, physically and emotionally.

i always had to be the happy kid. the one that got good grades, made everyone laugh and succeed in everything. whether i was my mom’s shoulder to cry on, my dad’s therapist, or my brother’s scape goat, i had a lot of jobs to fill from the age of 5 and on

my family fell apart quickly. my brother was in and out of rehabs, jails, homeless shelters. my parents turned to alcohol. i never had friends over because i was embarrassed of my home life. my only constants were my grandparents.

my parents always said i was their sunshine and the rock of the family. i took care of them. my mom always says that there were many times i was like a parent to her. and my brother always said i acted like the older sibling.