Alone God. An intangible and indescribable power beyond anyone's understanding, and yet he is blamed for every profane event present in each number of the seven billion. It was not until I became so lonely that I realized the great wonders of this superiority I spent my whole life learning about. As a kid, I don't think anyone understands the true reality of this obscure world, but as an adult the view becomes clear. As a teenager? Life alone is obscure, so imagine the whole world. This is my view. The cruel and inhumane habitat forced by humans. "You're just like your mother!" Lately my dad said this more than often. His tone turned into a not-so-kidding one and the absence of love he had for my mother was like lace, transparent, and everyone could see. I didn't know if he means that he hates me too because I am like my mother or what, but that really hurt. My mom came crying through the door at night and I didn't understand why, because she had gone on a date with my dad. He followed in and he was fine, but his guilty face showed everything. I was always on top of their relationship, and this time was no different. The thoughts of what could've happened between them were infinite. "Your dad wants to leave me" she said, throwing herself a pity party. I don't understand why my mom is like that, so loud and abominable, I mean. There was no need for her to say that to us. My brother was in fourth grade; he didn't need to hear that. That's all we heard of that matter for the rest of the school year. Through those months the fights became intolerable, and my mom started leaving me. I hate her for leaving me. Why did she leave me? I hate her for failing me so deeply when I needed her the most. Our relationship became dark purple, like a bruise that took time to heal. My feelings were bruised, and they became a tornado that destroyed anything and anyone that tried to stop them. Mom: I'm a mom's girl, you don't do that to me. You
don't do that to the little girl who never left your side since she was in your womb. My mom was the best friend I had since I was a fetus, and she had destroyed me. She destroyed a girl that had only lived eleven years of her life. I was morally hurt because my mom was gone. With my investigation skills I began to find the mystery beneath my question: my mom was having an affair. Oh.my.gosh. I wanted to die. Yes, literally die. My anger built up inside me like lava rising up before gushing out through a little hole. That man was ugly, short, old, oh, and not Christian. Where was the God who was good all the time? Cause this certainly wasn't good. I felt so hurt and betrayed because she had chosen a man rather than her children. The man's square body just made his height worse and his appearance less appealing. At least she could've chosen someone better. With anger in my body, veins, heart and bones I began to close in to myself and began to doubt God. This was not fair. This was not something a girl who always praised him deserved. I lived with anger and the secret of knowing about the affair until summer came along. That summer, the first words I heard when I got home were my mom's; "I'm leaving." My heart sank and my mind filled with questions. Questions of what? I don't know. I don't know because I knew all there was to know. My mom was leaving my dad, and my happiness was completely cut off from the hope that still lingered in my head. I cried. I cried so quietly yet so loud. It was loud in my head, my soul, my body... It was a sour cry, one that no one wishes even upon their enemy. A cry so powerful, it was capable of tearing down the walls of a prison cell. My dad told us to pack because we were moving with my mom. He tried to smile, but his bloodshot eyes and beat down body talked for themselves. That made me mad, because where was my choice? Didn't I get to pick where I wanted to live? I had to live with the woman who dared to still call herself my mom. When we moved in, she was never in the apartment with us, but out with her
boyfriend. Who was she to do that? Yet we stayed there living with her even if she had no desire to live with us. This became intolerable, so we confronted her. My sister, my brother and I had the courage to tell her our mephitic feelings, yet she didn't care. SHE DIDN'T CARE. We cried our hearts out and took off all the anger we had inside us, and all she did was stare at us like we were animals. Her dark eyes were cold and stale, and we could see right through her. Right through her black heart filled with nothing but thorns and poison where no tenderness could be found. With that encounter we had with my mother the brute, there was no doubt that the best thing to do was to go live with my dad; after all, that was our only other choice. Over time however, we realized it wasn't "living with dad", it was actually living with grandparents. My dad was never home, and that led to guess what? More arguments. I felt so abandoned and, the world was just obscure. Having both parents at an arms reach, yet I felt like an orphan with none. It was the worst feeling a human being can have. I felt like my happiness was just outside the window, but I was stuck on the other side. Life was advertising me a lie. Both my parents had no idea that their decisions affected something more than them. Day by day they were like little kids calling each other names. All we heard was "Your dad is this, your dad did this" and that's what led us to find out the problem that led to all of these. My dad finally sat down to talk to us... A sudden statement my dad said was coming true; we were going to America. America where I could live my dreams and not be afraid of someone taking away my freedom. Where the sun rises but one can still feel the breeze that brought on a small shiver through the whole body. Dad didn't tell us exactly why we were going up to the States, but we didn't care, it was America, for crying out loud. I was always just going with the flow too, wherever my parents took me I knew I would be safe because they were leading the way so I never asked questions. I always
went up there to North Carolina to visit but oh boy, Texas seemed exciting. It was like transferring a person's spirit to a body it doesn't belong to, because you know, I didn't belong in America. Excited and full of oblivion, there I was on the plane that led my life into a hole of suffering. That was 2004, the year my life changed. I didn't belong in America because there was no reason for me to be here. I had everything that I needed where I was. My family was there, my friends were there... We were doing economically well. I never stopped to think about why were leaving all that behind to come to a country where we're worth nothing. I was robbed from a life I would prefer to live today. Now that I think about it, why would my dad make such a decision that would cost us so much? Cause us to lose importance by moving to a country where we're not recognized because we aren't citizens? My family didn't come to here chasing the American dream... actually, we came here running away from an affair that had harsh consequences. My parents lied to me by omission. I didn't know I was coming to live here, I thought we were just visiting, but it was all a dirty lie. A lie that destroyed my whole family. My dad sat down and told us that we came to the US because there was a woman that wanted to destroy our family. Ironic, because either way our family was going to be destroyed. Well anyway, that woman didn't want to separate us, she just wanted her son to have a dad... My brother to have a dad. I still refuse to call him my brother... I've never met him and I don't know how I would react if I did meet him. That in itself destroyed the image I had for my dad because he had ruined my whole life because of his mistake. Because of that, I came to America, where I didn't belong. This just took me to breaking point. I had no one, and all I did was pray to God and ask him why he let it happen to me. I would ask him every day, and blame him every day for the horrible life I was living. It took me so long to realize that God wasn't someone to blame. It
wasn't his fault that all these horrible things happened to me. After all, he gave us free will, right? It wasn't his fault that my parents' decisions affected me in such way. I was so alone and I had no one but God. In that moment, when I came to that realization, I let go of everything. I knew I had to forgive my parents, and I had to take away the hatred I had towards the little boy my dad had because he was just of a victim as I was. In that moment, God gave me peace. Now I know God is not one to blame for my parents' decisions. I also know that the separation of my parents is not going to fade away and I am going to have to deal with it on a daily basis. Problems like these have strengthen my character. I try to no longer erupt like an active volcano, but instead analyze things calmly with God. An overwhelming power beyond my understanding who somehow manages to give me peace.