Why Me? — A True Story

People around me, who aren’t my family, believe I’m a really nice girl who is smart and pretty. They encourage me to strive for the best. But what about my family?

Ever since I was a little girl, I struggled to fit in. I struggled to fit in with kids my own age, at school, and with my family. My family didn’t want me, nor did they need me.

Now I’ve heard from every adult that they believe families adore you and even though you get into a fight they’ll always love you in the end. Well, my family is different. They pretend to care for me, but behind people’s backs they’re monsters.

They only buy what they want and put a claim onto it. Whenever they feel like calling me a name, they call me it. And if I tell them to stop calling me that they say it’s disrespectful. They called me a bunch of swears when I was younger and even to this day. They even hit me whenever I do something ‘disrespectful’.

I am a good kid. I do basically everything right. Social workers I’ve had for the past few years believe it as well, and they just cannot understand how my family cannot see that.

It is hard for me to do anything, because they won’t allow it. They think they’re superior and can do whatever they want because they’re older. Like This past night I was in the car with my own mom and I had to go to the library to return a few books after work.

My mother gave me a mean look and said, “Why did you come from the library? Were you there the whole time?”

“No,” I said, “I had to return my books.”

“So, you went through the alley back there?” She said gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“Yeah…” I said looking forward.

“Why’d you..?!? Ugh, you know what fine fuck you. You never listen anyways so fuck you.” She said and drove on out of the parking lot.

On the way home she was quiet and kept changing the stations. Then she spoke again in a mean way.

“If I miss this show because of you. I’m going to fucking kick your ass.” She said looking straight ahead.

“Oh yeah! That show was on today.” I said with a smile on my face and placed my hands underneath my chin.

It went quiet once again and as we came inside our house she ran towards the remote and pushed the buttons down hard till it turned on.

“Come on!”

I walked towards my couch and put my bag down onto it and was about to sit down when she walked away as the show came on. She looked back at me and shook her head as it was 13 minutes into the show.

“Stupid ass, you made us late,” She said.

“Stupid,” I muttered while looking at the screen.

She whipped her head around and looked at me, “Did you just call me stupid? You cannot swear at me like that!”

“That’s not a swear,” I said trying to keep my cool.

“You just called me stupid. What the fuck have I done? I’ve done everything for you and this is how you fucking repay me?” She said pacing back and forth.

“You called me names!” I said realizing I was losing my coolness.

“That’s because I’m your mother. And you’re getting mad at me.”

“No, I’m not getting mad at you. You called me names.”

“Go to your room!” She yelled out.

I grabbed my bag and headed towards the hallway.

“You disrespectful child, calling me names,” She muttered.

I turned around and yelled out, “I did not disrespect you! You started getting mad at me for no reason! And calling me names. As soon as I got in the car you got mad at me because I went to the library!”

“Yeah, well you went through the alley. That dark alley. Haven’t you heard about all those murders and kidnappings?” She muttered angrily.

I started walking away and said, “Yeah, well I rather get hurt!”

“Fine, I don’t care. Do whatever you want.”

She called me names afterwards and I yelled back at her that it was not right. And everybody in the whole world even knew it. She didn’t care. Yet, by the mention of the police she stopped.

A few weeks ago the police were called due to the fact of me being depressed and I was talking to someone on a hotline who cared for me even though they didn’t even know me other than the story I told them. The police had me taken to a hospital and I stayed there for several hours. They told me I need to get prescribed with anti-depressants once again.

I haven’t got my pills yet, but I am unsure if it will work or not. The reason I have depression is because of my family. They’re the reason I have no confidence in myself, no self-respect, n0 hope for finding someone who will love me and give me what I’ve wanted my whole life…and that is to be cherished.

I’ve been to the lowest point in my life many times and thought of taking my own life. People have said it is selfish, but the way I have seen it when I was younger I had no one, and no friends. So , why should anyone care? And yet right now I am writing this story to you about the real me. I don’t know what has been holding me back all these years from getting away of being crushed and pushed down into a deep dark hole. But someday I will find the truth behind it and I will run away from this jail, and I will find a light for myself.

— Juliana Pelaez, 17 years old.