After leaving the clutches of my family I still had a war to fight. They had given me everything I needed to survive. What were the correct tools for the job? I didn't know what was going to happen the last time I walked out those doors. All I was it was on me from now on.

I went home and sat down. Thought about everything I wanted to say to my family and started writing. The one tool I forgot to pick up is how to make an honest pay without killing myself. Sure I was good at many things. I could draw. When I wanted. I could paint a little. I had never mastered anything, because I had to keep moving. I wasn't ever able to sit down and just focus on something for as long as I wanted to. When I was finally able to stop all hell would break loose and all my progress lost.

Here I was alone, finally. My husband asleep in his room, or working. I'm not sure. I was able to look at my blank page and see one thing. I have a husband. We have a dog. We have a mink. We have a cat. We have a fish. We have a house, and if we lost it. We have a truck, we can load up what we need and go. That is where my story continued, but I still had questions.

What If I didn't want to go? What if we had to? These were important questions. Mom was paying the rent still, and the light bill and the satellite. I was paying for the phones and everything else. What could I do to fix this problem? I already proved I could give them the world. I gave them each other. Now it was time to convince myself I could do it on my own. Well yes I am alone, but I am wallowing in hell because of it. Why? Was it my husband, or was it myself.

I was fighting my own demons. I have been fighting my whole life, and now here I was fighting myself. I was given a truck and I wanted to give up? Stop moving? Why in the hell would I do that? I'm doing this. Something they said I couldn't do and I was going to stop, because they told me this was it? Time to go into a home. I couldn't let my story end this way.

Was I really going to let them take my life away from me exactly as they had before? I decided then and there I wasn't going to do that. I was going to fight. I wouldn't tell the word about them. I decided to tell my story. I would never let anything happen to them, because my message wasn't about who they were, it was about who I am. I typed on. Not telling anyone who they were. I've already lost everything, and gained everything. What is the one more thing, I'm not attached to it. I changed one little thing about myself. I would only tell everyone who I am.

I sat down at a computer and I wrote even more. I am the nothing they need, and I am everything they wanted. I have nothing, so I will make nothing. The words spilling out of me over the screen. I pore everything into this little slice of nothing I have. I play with my family, like a child stuck in time. I dance with my husband, like a spoiled brat. I beg for attention when i don't want any, to keep them away. I cry because I hate who I am. I sing because I love myself so much. I am crazy, I will be crazy and I love being crazy. Because this crazy person is happy, and she loves the abuse she inflicts on herself. Then why was I still wallowing.

I looked at my husband. Was he to blame? I love my husband, and I hate him at the same time. He loves to watch me dance, and I hate it when he looks. I want him to hear me sing, but I hate when he listens. I love the way he fights, but hate how dirty I fight. He lets me hate my self and love him. Because he gives me exactly what I give him. We stand eye to eye and toe to toe. Pushing each other to the edge. We reach out and grab each other when we reach that point. We wrap our arms around one another. We stand together. In that moment. We make love. Two war hero's standing at a draw. That is what we were taught love was. War, and we fight each other's war with one another. We remind each other who we are. Blow for blow, with out ever laying a hand on one another. Fighting off demon that threaten our happiness. Standing, not side by side, but back to back. Making sure all bases are covered. Reaching out and holding the other up when we are weak. Providing backup, and catching each other when we fall.

He became my right hand, and I his. He could do the physical labor, while I heal. I can do the driving. He can do the work. That way I can help. I can keep paying the bills. He gets the truck on the road. I help his family, and mine when they need it. He works to get us a house. I write our story, he paints it. Never telling anyone who we are, because we are everyone.

Everyone's story is the same. We all pitched our fits until we were happy. We all find someone who fits our perfect and we stand back to back with them. We all get hurt along the way and fight back. We all carry each other. We all pitch fits to get what we want.

I look around myself and see what is going on. We are mutilating out bodies, because we are wrong. We are wrong, because the world tells us we are. We become exactly what our families made us and we wallow in the acceptance of our rolls. We beat our women, and our men, forcing every one to fear each other, and we let this world empower us to keep moving forward. Keep pushing on, because some day, one day you might be happy. You will find God. You will settle down. You will be happy. It is all a rat race and we are slaves to it. Born to play parts for each other's entertainment. Born to bitch and wine till we are blue in the face. Born to tell everyone exactly what they know. Born to tell them everything they don't want to know about themselves. We are bred to play our part to fight our battles. The hard fact of life is, we chose to let it. We choose to play the right card in the right moment to get what we decide we need.

We choose to use people to get what we want and I couldn't stand living in this world. Everything, rushing by me so fast that I couldn't take a breath. We all run. We all run as fast as we can, by doing nothing. We do nothing by doing everything.

Until we see. Everyone is searching for a hero. One that will not come. Not until we figure out how to save our selves. We were the hero of our own stories. The villein, the devil in the gospel, but we were also the hero of our own story. The lead roll. It is our choices killing us, and none of us wants to stand up and realize it is our own faults. We created this, by choosing to continue to let it happen. Every time we play a part. Every time someone pitches a fit, we give in and give them what they want. We don't ask why, never ask why. We can not save some one with out hurting someone else.

Supper hero's weren't made because they didn't exist. They were made, because we keep getting bored with the saviors we have. There were the Gods in each mythology all over the world. Each one telling the same story, except its a little different. Strange things being found and everyone wondering why? We lost focus, and started pulling ourselves apart, wondering why. We live in hell daily, why?

Still we didn't want to see, everything that stares us in the face. We are unhappy, because we choose to be. Just like me. My choices had gotten me far in life, but it wasn't enough. I had a truck but it wasn't enough. I stood there proud of myself, and I wanted to kill myself at the same time. I was happy for us and I wanted to take it from us at the same time. I had slipped back into being a spoiled brat, and he wasn't going to share until I stopped. I am Crazy, and I knew why. I just didn't want to admit it.

My mind raced on. Why couldn't I use the truck? Why must I ask? Its ours right? No. It wasn't ours. I was walking around saying "my, me, I, mine" about something he bought. Yes, it was partly because I allowed him to live off me for a while, but he put in the work to get it. It wasn't my truck. It was our truck. For the first time I could hear myself. I heard it and I couldn't stand myself. How dare I take all the credit for our work. I had slipped, back into my old self. He was there to catch me. I went to war, he brought me home. He wasn't the problem. I was.

The fact of the matter is, my family would never see this. They will never know, I know I am crazy. They would never see how easy they made it for me. They whispered in my ear, and talked and twitched at me. They wouldn't let me talk to them together. Everyone had their own plans, and my plans weren't the right. I sat down and cried. I gave them the last of me I could, and I went home.

Here he was, holding the keys to a life we built together, and I was taking all the credit, not because I wanted to, Because I didn't want them to steal it away from me. I gave them a glimpse of what I had then burred it under the truth. I was still telling my story when I got home.

I couldn't figure out why I did this. The thing is why no longer mattered. It had to stop. If no one would listen to why I was killing myself, I would tell the world. In telling, I could let it all go. Its not like anyone would listen anyways, none of it mattered.

Here in my little shadow. My voice is so low compared to the voices out there in the world. Everyone screaming at each other, I'll simply whisper. That way, I can tell my story, to anyone who wants to hear it. Maybe no one will ever hear it, but that is fine with me. I'll be sitting here with my little family, doing nothing. Filling this blank page with my thoughts. Releasing my story upon any ear that dare's to turn my way. Pretending to be useless, because I am useless. Waiting for my body, and mind, to heal. Working to get stronger, so one day, we might stand on our own and find a way to heal the world.

Maybe one day everyone will understand what I am say. It doesn't matter if they believe, all that matters is it is right here in front of you. If you aren't happy, don't take it out on yourself, or someone else. Fix what is broken inside. Let everyone else do the same. Stand up for what you believe in, but be sure it is worth believing in. One of them may be right, and you go out with peace in your heart. Make your life matter to someone, somewhere, by simply saying I feel your pain.

What is the meaning of life. Its finding peace in all the noise, and being willing to pay the price for that peace. It's healing the world, by first healing yourself.

I come to understand death isn't a punishment, and that scares me. I also understand, death isn't the end. It is simply a new chapter in my story.

I will leave this one here to fade in the wind, and hope that maybe some one some where can find some meaning to my words. I give you my story for free, but it came at a price. That is a price very few are willing to pay.

I hope this helps someone, who is struggling with the decision to live or die. Wondering if they should just end it all. I would hope they would read these words of this crazy woman. I hope understand death is an ending. It would be easy, but then you would miss out on the best part. Death is our reward, but not until we find out peace. I've been there, more times than I can count. Don't end it. Put down that excuse and try again. If you fall keep picking yourself up. No One is coming, because someone is already there. You.

You are not alone. We are all fighting our own wars, in that we are all connected. It is when we stop, we see who is truly there. Instead of killing yourself, take a vacation from your self. Turn the page, change the story. Move in a direction that is towards something you want. Pick something you need. As my better half always says, "Just breath love. I got you. Are you done yet?" I didn't think so. Neither am I.

Let's write this next chapter together. Tell me who you are? Tell me your story in the comments. If my words touch you. Let me know. If they angered you, pitch your fit. Remember, the price I had to pay to bring them to you.

To love me is to hate me. I don't know who you are, but I will tell you the truth as I see it. Take it or leave it. You might not like what I have to say. I will let you throw your fit. I'm here for you. I'm here for the ones who need me. When they need me. Right before that final dive. A hand reaching out in a world where their aren't any. Lets Fight together, Just tell me what you are dealing with, and follow us as we live our life. Remember, we are all crazy.

All my life I have been called a spoiled brat. Someone who only wants what they can't have. Perhaps that is true. Someone asked me one day, "Why. Why are you a spoiled brat?" and those words haunted me for a long time. Why am I a spoiled brat? What made me a spoiled brat, and why do i continue to be a spoiled brat.

First I had to figure out what a spoiled brat was. So i did some research online. A spoiled brat according to the Urban Dictionary is defined as, "a kid who wants anything they see... and they cry and scream their heads off until they get it." They also go on to say, "Children who use their parents' weaknesses in order to get material goods. The weakness is usually guilt." I read on and see nothing about why they are spoiled. What made them spoiled. I see plenty of attacks on a child, but nothing to show exactly what makes a spoiled brat and why. They simply say it is this, and the child is to blame.

Wikipedia tells me, "A Spoiled child or spoiled brat is a derogatory term aimed at children who exhibit behavioral problems from being overindulged by their parents." This spoke to me. When I look back on my child hood I see the correlation to this statement, and my life. When I was young, my mother gave me everything. I had a beautiful home, cars, brothers, toys. Anything and everything I needed to keep me distracted, and ignore the important things. Even today, I find that to be true. I have cable, Internet, phone, tablets, TV's computers. Everything is at my fingertips all the time. On top of that I have food coming in and rent is paid. My lights are paid. Everything is paid for by me, but nothing is being paid directly by me.

What exactly does that mean. Along the way in life I tried to explain to my family, when I say I want something, I don't mean, go buy it for me. I mean let me get it myself. I had no reason to get up and do anything, yet so desperately wanted something to want. Like any loving mother or father, they would hand it to me. What was the first thing I wanted? Their attention. Why? Because someone was hurting me. I couldn't explain to them what was going on and every time I tried, nothing was all that came out. I asked my mother to love me, she made me her baby. I asked my father to love me, he made me the enemy. I asked my older brother to love me, he made me the target. I asked my stepfather to love me, he made me his love bunny. When I tried to fight back, their ears and eyes would close. I saw the struggle in them. It was always a battle for attention. I found out to love one, is to hate everyone else. I asked my middle brother, to love me, and he said I don't know how. That got me to wondering. How do you love some one. Someone told me, "We hurt the one's we love the most." My family kept saying this when we were young, and this stuck with me. I don't know where it come from, it was just passed down in our family. I got to thinking on this one day and realized, these words are very true. We hurt the ones we love the most.

When I was young, everything was handed to me, and because of that I didn't need to do it on my own. My family helped me because they love me. They gave it to me because they loved me. The problem was, their love was not helping me. The fact that they wouldn't allow me to do for my self then, forced me not to know how to do for myself. I had to wait to escape the clutches of their grips to finally try to do anything myself.

Eventually, I caught on to this. When I was fourteen my stepfather started to molest me and it only happened twice. When it first happened the emotions around it split me inside. The reason was because I couldn't believe what he was doing to me. I was taught sex was wrong, and yet here he was showing me how good it felt. The fact he was sick from a brain tumor didn't matter. I didn't want to admit to anyone that I wanted to feel that way, but knew it shouldn't have been him to show me. After words, he made it a point to tell me it was the first time and it would never happen again. So, I let it go. It was the second time he touched me, something clicked in me. He lied to me. If he had lied to me about this, what else was he lying to me about, and who else was lying to me. I don't know. It was all too much. All I knew in that moment, I had a choice. My family was going to be his, or my family was going to be mine.

I had to be sure who i told would be right. So I waited. I went to school and though on it. How, who, why? And my nerves ate at me and my stomach churned so bad, I went numb. Everything stopped. I remember the sound of the school buses releasing their brakes. I remember the sound of the kids playing in the back ground. I remember the look on my friends face when I told her. I remember the way the parents greeted their moms, and I realized in that moment. I was alone. I would always be alone, and no one will ever save me. I burned this image in my mind, and many more like it. Because these moments Mattered. I was told I God would save me, where was he? I was looking for him.

They say we are defined by our choices. In that moment I found myself. God wan't going to save me. I had to save myself. Everything faded away and I could hear nothing but my own heart beat. It was here I found myself. No one was coming to save me, no one was going to help my family. No one. Not even God. The bible even said he would test us. My family's happiness was to be my test. It had to be me to save them. It was my choice, I had free will. It was going to destroy my family. Every one I knew was my enemy, my family was my enemy and this was war. The Devil was coming, if there was one. I have to fight him on my own.

I grabbed my friends arm. I drew her strength, and I marched in there and I took back my family. I opened the flood gates and I told my story. Her first question to me was, "Are you sure?"

In that moment, she had to determine if she was on my side, or if she was going to fight me. I knew our fate rested in my hands and I said "yes." The first thing I needed was back up, and here she was. Here I was spilling the beans at this woman, and her first reaction was, I didn't just hear this, am I hearing this, what do i do? She made her choice and she shot out. Made her phone calls and I bought an army. They locked me in that room alone. I needed time to determine my next step. So I sat there alone. In the quiet. Scared. Petrified of what was going to happen next. My life was signed over.

My test didn't end there. My mom drug me to every doctor. Convinced I was broken. My middle brother was ripped away from me the only one I could talk to. My older brother went to live with my aunt, only to return his to show his rage. I was left with my mother. Who was convinced, by the doctors, I would never mature beyond the age of fourteen. Because when they asked me what I thought, they didn't want to hear it.

They saw the fight in me and along the way. There was nothing but more fights. The devil came at me, from every angle. He came as everyone, and I had no one. But I had set it all in motion.

"How are you."

"I'm fine."

"How do you feel about what happened?"

"It happened, I survived."

"How do you feel about your family being split up."

"Shit happens, they will be back."

My mom drug me to every doctor. Convinced I was broken, because when they asked me, they didn't want to hear me. They wanted to know what he did and how they could use me.

They saw the fight in me and along the way. There was nothing but more fights. The doctors came at me, from every angle. My mother forced those pills down my throat till I wanted them. They were more than happy to give them to me, by then. At a small fee. I had no one. But I had set it all in motion. So I took it. I let them drug me. Use me. Poison me. Kill me.

They told my mom I was depressed, and I needed pills to recover. They told her the same thing when I was in school. Said I was hyper. I just missed living in the city. I wanted to go home. They wouldn't take me. I got used to living in the country. Eventually, we moved back to the city. There was too much noise, and I wanted to go home. I just needed time to get used to it. My life had been distroyed. I just wanted them to leave me alone to get used to it. Once I got used to something, now, I run scared. I never feel settled, because they kept moving me. Why did they keep moving me, because I finally reached out to someone and told them what was really going on. My mom taught me to run from my problems well, but I tough myself how to deal with her's.

Suddenly, I was shoved into a world where I had everything I wanted, and nothing I needed. I needed space, but that meant I had to get drugged. I needed time, that meant another trip to the doctors. Before I knew it we were going to doctors because that Medication made new symptoms.

You may wonder if I ever fought my way out of this situation. Yes. I ran away at 16. My mother sent the cops after me and they made me go home. They put me in Charter, and then a group home. When I ran away from there, she took me back. My real father freed me, and that was about the only thing he ever did for me in his life. Only after I told him what she did to me. He pinned me to the bed one day and screamed at me. I was fighting my demons, and he couldn't handle it. So I ran. Back to my mother. Back to the drugs. He came again in my adult hood and wanted to treat me like a child also. I got a job, one that would kill me. Suddenly, he and mom weren't happy, she told me, asked me if i would be, if they split and I lost my father again. He popped in every now and again when he needed something, and helped me along the way too. He knew what I was carrying and tried to free me, but he in turn also wasn't the one to make my mother happy.

In that I found myself in him and I knew the answer to my questions. A spoiled brat is someone who protects their family at all cost. Even if the price is protecting them from their selves.

Eventually, I needed the doctors.

At that point in time I didn't care. If she was going to force me to stay, I was going to be the best child I could be. She wanted to hand me everything my whole life. I was going to let her. She wasn't going to like the price she had to pay to keep me, but she chose it. I started fighting her, I started to fight the doctors. If I was using her, why not use her to help care for her. I used her to fight the doctors off me, I fought the doctors off her. They were making me sick, they were making her sick. It was a war for my life, and now she was on my side. At first she forced me to take pills, she forced me to go to group homes. She forced me to go into a mental institution for running away from home. It just made me madder. She wanted me to be insane, baby I was going to show her how insane I could be. No one else was going to rescue me, and she wasn't allowing me to go. So I pitched my fit, but I was leaving at eighteen. Eventually she stopped forcing me to do anything. She stopped forcing pills down my throat. Finally, my mother and I started to work together. We found a beat and we found a way to work together. When I didn't like someone, I told her. When she didn't like someone, she told me. What ever she needed I gave her. What ever I needed, she gave me.

My mother, wasn't at fault for anything that had happened to me, but she blamed herself. She was angry at herself, that meant she was angry at herself. She allowed me to get hurt. I was her penance, and she was mine. I already knew I was alright taking care of her, My way. She had a hard life, and when I broke this family I destroyed her. This wasn't just my fault, this was my reward. My mother was my burden to carry. I was frozen in her mind, pure sweet innocent, and I would never be rid of it. If this was the part I had to play. I would play it till I believed it. If it meant it would set me free. This was my punishment for not waiting for God. That is what they told me. Even if that meant I had to be a child till I died.

I knew I had to get away from her, but didn't know how. My thoughts started turning on me, and I fell. I was drugged and happy, and getting anything I wanted. She was happy, and life was good.

My mother, was a fighter then too. She drove trucks and was wonderful at it. We were living with my grandmother and I felt I could do better for us. My granny told me she had my back. I was finally allowing me to grow up. She was getting better and becoming happy. I got a job I left her there with granny, only during work hours. When I was home I had to be her child. When I was working, I had to be the child. This job was wonderful. It was my ticket out and I had nothing else to do, but do it!

My grandmother fell ill. She had a heart attack. Home life started to bleed in the woman I was, because grandma got sick. She got scared, and suddenly..

I gave up my job to go home to help care for her. My mother was in an accident at work and I had to take care of her too. My life that was just beginning. It was already over. I had to wait longer. There wasn't anyone else home to do it. So I had to.

Every time I came close to making my escape. Something went wrong. There was always a reason I couldn't leave. I had to take care of my Grandmother. Her boyfriend wasn't good enough. Why. Because no one else could save her. Which meant no one could save me.

I threw myself into trying to get by. They called me day and night to do things. I couldn't eat, because I ate too much. I couldn't sleep. I slept to much. I was running the bills to pay them and tending to people. Washing the dishes after a trip to the hospital. I was cooking dinner, and scrubbing toilets. Fetching drinks and cleaning up vomit. I was waiting for someone to rescue me. I knew no one was coming. There isn't a hero in this story, so stop looking for one.

I turned back to the doctors for help. I needed the doctors to drug me. I couldn't keep up. I was killing my self to keep them alive. I needed the drugs just to survive.

No one was going to save me, and the life of a spoiled brat is exactly that. Spoiled. Every time I though I was free. I was pulled back in. They gave me everything I wanted. I needed everything to take care of everyone. I had to be a spoiled brat. At what cost? I was their whipping girl. I was exactly what everyone made me to be. The one who held it all together. The one they couldn't live with out, because I allowed their abuse, and they dished it out by the minuet. As long as it kept my mom happy, I could get my work done. When I didn't have drugs, I had second life. When she was done pitching her fit. I cleaned the house. Till I couldn't anymore.

They say its wrong to expect anything given to you and you should fight to get it on your own. They are right. The price of everything I was getting from them was killing it. Every drug the doctor got me hooked on was killing me. Every thing was killing me. I wanted out.

Then there was one doctor who saw me. He understood. He held my hand and he looked me in the eyes. He said this isn't your fault. It is all your fault. Your body is sick. You did it to yourself. I looked at what was happening. I was popping pills behind everyone's back. Never stealing them. They were mine. I did the work to get them. I had every problem I needed, and more. I didn't know what was just aches and pains, or what was just normal twitches of my body.

I quit. I quit taking the drugs I didn't need to stay alive. I quit eating how everyone else told me. I started eating what my body told me it needed. I pitched a fit. I started seeing results, and I started seeing the progress. I was starting to get free. Then my grandmother turned for the worst.

I wanted to run. I didn't want to stay for this. At the same time I couldn't leave. I let them take care of me again. I took care of them the best I knew how. Take care of me, because i am taking care of you. I needed a car, because I was taking care of my mother, and needed to take her places, so i made sure she bought me a good car. Well, the first time, my brother put a stop to that. He got me a peace of crap, I didn't care. My salvation was in those moments when I was alone. I kept my brain together, and figured my next move out behind the wheel. When that one broke down, we had to get it fixed. Till we got another. My mom got her settlement from her accident at work and everyone came with their hands out. I tried to tell mom. We need to save it for a good car, and a house. They didn't listen to me, so I played my part. I would help her spend her money, but on things we needed. They talked my mom down from a good house and brand new car. Into nothing, and a cheap knock off of a new car. I put the work in for that car and they still tried to use it to control me. My father wanted it in his name and took the keys from me only once. I put the work into that car, and I wasn't about to loose it. I trusted him and he tried to control me just like everyone else. I knew right then he was only out for himself. I let him control me. I let him do exactly what he wanted. He went down burning, and I didn't do anything. Except exactly what he wanted me to do. Nothing.

He pitched a fit. I let him. He wanted to force me to do something. I did what I could when I could. He wanted me to leave. I left. I let him have mom. The problem was when I left, I didn't cut contact, because I knew my mother would need me. Eventually. I allowed more people to take care of me while my body healed, and my mind. Every time I tried to step forward, I got a call from someone at home. Someone needing me. I couldn't get any rest, and they were getting mad at me. They tried to teach me responsibility, and then it was war. My family needed me and I couldn't leave. My mom called me one night in panic because I didn't have my medication. It became a fight between my family and my friends. I tried to go to the pharmacy, but my heart pills were one drug I wasn't actually able to live without. I was born with an extra nerve on my heart. The people I was with started to abuse me the same way my family did. Why because I allowed them to. They were just working out their issues. I let them pitch their fits, but I did fight back. They wanted me to, at first, but they knew I was a lost cause. I was in too deep, and nothing was ready for me to leave. We parted ways, because I wouldn't part ways with my family. My mother is and always will be my curse. I made her and she made me. When someone picked me up, they let me stay with them. My father tried to talk me into staying with him, but I couldn't, my family needed me. He was just like me, and I did want to stay. We would have probably had a great life. It was simply a peak, a reminder of what I could have, if I would have chosen the easy way.

If I had never made my first choice, and chose to "give up" and "take it lying down" then, I would probably be happy somewhere. My family still getting tortured by the Devil. No, I chose this path. I faced my demons, just like I did my stepfather. I took them head on. Until they hug themselves. Then I moved on. I did take time to thank my friend for his help. I gave him all I had a favor later, for the help he gave me. He called me one day, and I did pay him back. I didn't have much, but he helped me when I had nothing. I owed him my life, but i gave it to my family long ago. So, I gave him a favor when he needed it most. I went home.

I tried to just stay off to the side, and let things happen the way they do. I tried to stay out of it. My father was trying to get rid of me before I got home. It was both a way of helping, and gaining control. I didn't mind. I was closer. Mom had other plans. She wanted to leave, and she asked me again how she felt. I allowed her to make her own choice, and he blamed me.

People ask me why sometimes I am hard. Why children love to be around me. Well its simply because I am spoiled. I never said a word. While I was out there getting better. He did something to scare her. In trying to help her, he went too far. I know now it doesn't matter to anyone else what happens in those moment. Those shadows of your mind. When they do something wrong, something snaps. You never mean it. You never intended it to happen. However, you allowed it. So, you should own up to it.

I am never going to say I have never lost my temper. I have. I have also always had a good reason why. I am sure he did too.

He crossed a line. He picked up a gun. I wasn't going to allow my mother and father to keep fighting over me. I loved them both, and they both loved me. I packed up, and we left. My mom and me. We moved back into my grandmother's house and I started playing my part again. She got everything we needed, I was forced to listen to my mom scream about the house, because she was getting sicker and sicker. There wasn't anything I could do. I was slowly taking over our lives, because I had to. If I went too fast, she would resist me. If I eased her into it. She would calm down and I could help her figure out the problem. I simply had to play the spoiled brat. I did manage to get a car I could drive, and they let me.

While I allowed them to take care of me, I went to school. Trying to get an education and trying to get a job. The problem was, they were still handing everything to me, and I needed them to. I needed these things to learn how to care for myself, under their watchful eyes. I went back to trying to figure out how to get free. I wanted it, I got it, I never had to fight for it. That is what they kept telling me. At the same time they wouldn't allow me. "You don't know what is like to live without." Well they were right. I didn't know what it was like to live without my family. I needed them. They made sure of that. I have been whining about everything they needed for years and they thought it was them getting it done. I heard their words. They put the food on the table. They made the house look good. They did it. They did it all it wasn't me. I didn't let them kill me by being their slave, and doing what I could where I could. I'm not dying because of them. I believed it that too. Except it wasn't true.

They kept telling me I was weak and needed them. When the whole time, it was them who needed me. They needed me to play the baby.

While playing the baby, I made sure they kept paying their own bills. When playing the baby, I allowed them to move me where they wanted. When playing the baby, I ran off the people they told me to. It would be my fault. When playing the baby, I helped them get the person they wanted, and cast them away when they were done. When playing the baby, I orchestrated their life exactly how they wanted me to. I took the blame. When they wanted to move, I moved. I pitched a fit for them. When they wanted a ride. They used me to get it. I was their puppet. I allowed them to use me, and they used me well. Every part of me.

I studied them. Learned their strengths and weaknesses. I waited for my turn to make my move. I didn't know how I was going to get free, but by God I would. I never could. When they weren't looking, I was. I was looking for my escape. It never came. When I found a way. I got scared, and allowed them to make me feel I couldn't make it on my own. Eventually, I started to believe it.

It wasn't until, they force me to give up something I loved with all my heart. I put my foot down and suddenly it was war. I wanted out, They wanted to keep me. They wouldn't let me go, so I arranged it where they would want to leave me. I had to wait. When someone doesn't play by your rules, you get bored and leave them. That is what they taught me. My father blamed me for my mom wanting to leave her. When it was his fault. My mother blamed me for leaving. When it was her fault. My brother's blamed me for never talking to them, when it was their fault. I carried their blame, I carried their guilt, I carried it all. It almost broke me.

I wasn't lost, yet.

They lost me. They abused me. They used me. They pulled the life out of me.

I simply allowed it.

No more.

My middle brother came back in our lives. He was the only one who got free. I got to hang out with him, and I tried to see him. My brother wasn't there. I had to wait. Eventually, my brother went to collage, got a job. Made something out of himself, and then he stumbled upon god. Found a life there he liked, found a wife who saw the good man he had become. Saw the peace in him. Saw his family and didn't run. They simply looked at what I held together, and said bring it on. Maybe it was all gods plan. Maybe it was simply my brother. Slowly one by one, he took in his lost family from me. First our father. Then our older brother and his current wife. Things got a little easier on me. It wasn't enough. Grandma passed away. They told me I was dying. I was handed a ticket with a time stamp.

I went to my brother's and told them. I also told my father what the doctors said. If I kept going the way I was going, I was going to dye.

My mom started to plan my funeral. She picked out my plot. I crawled into myself and locked myself away. She fell into a dark depression because I wasn't taking her with me anymore. I couldn't I didn't want to be around her. When I was, I wanted to kill her. I did everything I could do to not want that anymore. I turned on myself, why, because it was my fault. I broke my mother, to free her, and I had to deal with it. Death was my reward.

My sister in law got pregnant. The one thing I couldn't give to my mom. The first baby didn't survive. Then another miscarriage, and they needed her. At least they though. She went down to be with them and I let her. I sat down with the man they didn't want me to be with and told him what was going on and he told me. "Lets fight." We did.

If I could survive them. What made them think I could not survive this world? They tough me every thing I need to know. What I want doesn't matter. What I need doesn't matter. It's all about them. They didn't care what they were doing to me. I could be spoiled, as long as I kept playing taking the fault.

That didn't work for me. I wasn't getting anything out of this deal, but death.

It was time to live for me. I was alone. I had to save myself. This time from them. I let her go, but this time. I started a huge fight before she left. When she got there she thought of me. She called me and we didn't do anything but scream at each other.

My husband, simply let me pitch my fit. They called, I wouldn't run. They screamed, I screamed back. Finally, the calls stopped. They checked in on me every now and again. And I was alone, but I wasn't alone.

It took me time to fight through the clutter they made in my head. To sort out all the data I collected. To find out I didn't need them. They need me. I can do this. I can clean my own house. I can have a job. I can run my own life. I can be free. I can stop caring. I can die. I can give up. I can do anything I want to do. Look at where they are now. I fought them my whole life to keep them together till my family came back together. I panicked. I had to see I made the right choice.

My middle brother's wife got pregnant and they wanted me to come down. I was petrified.

When I stood before them, I stood at the moment where for once someone saw me. My middle brother. He told me years ago, he didn't know what love was. He just needed time to find it. I told them he would come and he did. I told them, I didn't care, and I don't. I told them I could do it alone. I always have been. I told them everything. I even told Them goodbye. They didn't listen.

I played the right cards at the right time to line them all up right where I wanted them. I Put them where I needed, and then I said my good bye. My brother took over for me. I thanked him and headed home.

They are exactly where I want them. Away from me. So I can breath.

On my trip back, I saw myself slipping back into old habits. I cried. Once again I was allowing them to take care of me, why because they would. However, this time someone saw me. For a moment he saw me. No judgement. No tears. No words. He let me wallow. This time he saw what he left me to. He let me pitch my fit. Then let me go home. He understood. I just want to alone now. I'm not going to fight them anymore. If that makes me a spoiled brat. I can own that.

If peace and quiet is the price I have to pay for giving myself nothing. I am prepared for it, because I can't take anything with me when I die anyways. If I stay with them, death isn't a punishment. It is my reward. If I stay with them, I'm dead anyways. At least this way, I call the shots. If that makes me a spoiled brat.

I am a spoiled brat. I have been a spoiled brat all my life.

That is just fine with me. We all owe this to me.

This man beside me. He wants me along for his ride. Cause I gave them happiness. He did the same with his family. We just want to be left alone. They got this. They don't need us anymore. If they do. We are just a phone call away.

Except, I'm the spoiled brat. And no one likes a spoiled brat.

I love you, too.

The thought of this always playing in my mind is why I must do the rest on my own. I am not a spoiled brat when I am away from them. At home we got a truck. And with that truck we can do anything. I know what to expect at the end of this story. I will go to visit them from time to time, because they are my family. They are hell. They are blood. They are happy, I'm going to make sure they stay that way. I will give them everything they want. I will give them a Spoiled Little Brat.

Besides We all need to remember who we are every once in a while. That is how we keep fighting this war we call life.

I used their emotions to save them, because they couldn't save me. I still wanted My own life. Paid for by me. The price had always been too high to pay. I allowed myself to pay this price over and over. Allowed my self to become twisted and mangled into a monster, because they needed me to.

It's all my fault. I let them turn me into a spoiled Brat.

This was my chance to run. Just like on those web pages the story doesn't end here, before I left. Where I tried to tell them about my life here they didn't listen. When I tried to show them a picture, they didn't want to see. They wanted me there, but they didn't want to see me. When I spoke to them, it was as if I didn't exist. They know better for me. They know what's best. I am a spoiled brat.

They are all jealous. I found the life they stole all on my own. I have nothing but him, and a truck, a dog, a cat, a few fish, a mink. I am happy. I let them still my life, and here in the darkness, I found love. Where the sharks eat your soul I found someone, who was waiting on the side lines. For once in my life I am not alone. God didn't save me, if you want to give him credit. Go ahead. I did. Why because he let me. It doesn't matter if I believe. Simply because I let them take it from me, and let them believe I found it. The beauty of it they will never know the truth. The truth would hut them. In this trip I found peace. They will never know how they hurt me, because I won't allow them to see. I never needed to forgive anyone of anything. I already had. It wasn't ever their fault. I allowed it.

I don't know what is in store for me next. All I know is I have what I need. I have our truck. I have my check. He has his art. I have my pets. We might have to let them take care of us, while we start out. We might have to play the spoiled brat for them from time to time. There isn't anything we wouldn't do for them. They did nothing for us, except everything. We did it all for them. To sum it up I did everything they said I did. Not for my self. They asked me to. I played the brat, the villein, the hero, then needy, the helpless, the stalker, and the best friend. I played the part they asked me till they were done with me. I am exactly what they made me, free.

Now, I can become who I want. Free of their judgement. Free of their jealousy. Free of their eyes. That is exactly where they want me. Waiting, for when they need me. To go back and fix things. Return this spoiled brat.

While I wait, I'm going to live how I want. A rebel, someone strong enough to defeat the odds. I am going to find my voice, and tell my story to the world. I'll never leave them behind. They owe me everything, and nothing at all.

Besides, they are about to bring more children into this world. Who do you think they are going to run to when they can't figure out what to do and run away. Me. I will be there. Waiting with our little truck. Here when they need me, to swoop in and catch a stray. Sitting on the side lines. Happy. Away from the noise. At peace. Ready to die for them. They scratch my back, I'll scratch theirs. They take care of me, I'll take care of them. I'll be the spoiled brat when they need me and the stalker when they don't. I'll let them pay for me to live here, as long as they let me live. Try to cage me again, and I'm gone. I'm not an animal. I'm a worrier princess. I've defeated all my monsters, by taming them. They excepted my care, and I excepted theirs. No one wins. We stand at a draw.

I'll bide my time, and play my part. When I am ready, I will fly. Right there, our truck, is how. Why doesn't matter. I'm just a Spoiled Brat, until they need me.

I found myself. They can't find me. They are free to believe what they want. As is anyone who reads this. All I know is. I am a spoiled brat because they made me one, and its my fault. Nothing will end her, I will keep going. If I stay, I will die. If I leave, they will kill each other. If I stay I drown. If I leave I live. If so, how is this the end? If I am so bad, why are they happy.

They press my buttons, because they created the buttons, and I love them for it. When they aren't around I am allowed to think for myself. The longer I stay away, the better I get. I know they are still my punishment and will never leave them, but this is also my reward for all my work. They know I am hooked on their crack they call love. At least, now they can blame someone else. Be it my brother. Be it God. Be it myself. This spoiled brat's story doesn't stop here.

So what holds up. I see the pros and cons of each side. I guess its all in how you look at it. There is no hero to my story, there is no bad guy. We all simply played a part. We all wrote an amazing story. Perhaps it is God who put us on this path. Maybe it really was myself. I simply know, i'm not alone anymore, and it doesn't matter. Everything boils down to perspective. In their eyes, I was everything they hated. In my eyes, I was exactly who they trained me to be. Neither is right, and both are right.

Sitting from my prospective, I'm not just a spoiled brat. I'm the reflection they need. Some can see me for a moment, and I thank them. Before they can capture me, I am gone. Asking, do you really need me. Then leaving. They are spoiled brats just like me. It's no one's fault, its everyone's fault. It's all my fault.


Sited Works,



Urban Dictionary: Spoiled Brat; https://www.urbandictionary.com/def.....Spoiled%20Brat



Spoiled child - Wikipedia; https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spoiled_child

A Solder's Return
By Cynthia D. Roberts

He sat on his bed with his hat in his hand,
The memories ran through his mind.
He was 18 and with his brother fishing.
Then signing up for the Vietnam War,
The next in line to serve his country.

Standing with his family at the bus depot,
He watched his mother try not to cry,
His sister held her doll an dried her tears,
His brother longing to join him next year,
He fought the tears as he hugged them each,

His father dressed in uniform, beamed with pride,
He stood before him, a young man off to war,
A single tear rolled down his fathers cheek,
As he proudly shook the hand of his father,
His father raised his hand and saluted him.

He straitened to attention, and placed his hand to his head,
The moment he knew he was now a man.
They dropped their hands,
And he gave one last goodbye to his mother,
He picked up his bags and boarded the bus.

The Crimson truth of reality stood before Him,
As the Screams of the shells start piercing,
Guns fire ringing in his mind,
With the echo of his dyeing comrades.
Honorably discharged, he returns and takes a wife.

His Bride and him spent eight happy years together,
When she gave him his first son.
His daughter came the year after,
Ten years of happily ever after,
Ends abruptly with the passing of his wife.

A soft knock at the door and the shadows of the past fades,
He composed himself and limped to the door.
Time seemed to slow down with each painful step,
As he approached his waiting family,
His sister's gentle hand leads him to the car.

His mind took a journey back to when the towers fell,
And the pride he felt when his son announced he would serve,
His daughter begged her brother not to go,
But a only a solder can understand this call to arms,
A father's hug and salute to send a man off to the another war,

The whole family was there waiting for him,
Service men all dressed in Dress Uniforms,
The room was dressed in flowers,
A photograph stood at the front of the room,
The young man in the photograph was his Son.

Quietly, everyone greeted him as he was led to his seat.
Standing at attention, the highest Salute was given to him,
From everyone in Dress Uniform.
The sound of marching rang through the room,
As everyone turn to look at the same doors.

He held his breath as the doors open.
Rhythmic footsteps drummed as the color guard appeared,
His eyes were glued to his son as they carried him,
A perfectly pressed flag laid over him,
His heart dropped at the sight of his son's coffin.

The hand of his daughter rested on his shoulder,
As she tried to remain silent with her tears,
With the help of his family he followed behind his son,
As they carried him out to the grave,
His heart Ached with sorrow and pride.

The murmurs of the preachers words faded,
As he watched the flag ruffle in the wind.
The calls of commands seemed so distant.
He stood at attention, as the gun fire sounded,
And saluted as his son while he was lowered into the ground

Never in his youth could he dream of such sorrow,
Never should anyone see so much death,
Never can anyone understand,
The heart ache of a military family,
When a Solder Returns to be laid to Rest.[/center]

Lost Moon

A gentile touch like a breeze,
From a feathery hand on my knee,
My fingers embrace a silky chest,
A sweet whisper like a la-la-by,
A kiss from a rose,
So tall,
So rare,
My heart can hardly bare,

Hazel eyes run over me,
To their lost moon in the night,
He holds me so warm with care,
I never wanted more to hold him there,
I run my fingers threw soft brown hair,
My heart beat runs wild,
With his name in the air.

I loved him then,
And still do today,
How he stole my heart away,
I will never know,
Why did I let him go?

I call out his name,
At night,
At day,
I will call him always,
Always!

My Dearest Love,
When we first met, I was a broken man. My world had fallen into darkness, and I was lost. Till one day the most beautiful woman brought out my food, with the sexiest smile. With a bit of friendly flirting and the kindness you showed me, you became a beacon in the darkness that surrounded me.
Your light shone on me and our friendship bloomed. With every smile and laughter, I began to feel feelings I never thought were possible again. You became my best friend, the one I turned to in good times and bad. You took this broken man and slowly made him whole again.
My love grew with each day that passed, and I could see it in your eyes, How much you loved me also. The happiness we shared completed our lives, and I'll never forget the day I knew I would be with you forever.
The day I became your husband, my soul mate became my wife. We showed the world the devotion in our connected hearts. Your loving me got me through anything I would face; my loving you got you through anything you would face. You became my whole world and our happiness grew.
I didn't think I would have to say goodbye to my heart so soon, but I know you are up there shining your light n me still. I will never stop loving you, and I will never forget the wonderful angel who made my life worth living.
With all my love,
~Skip~


((My grandpa asked me to help him find the words to say. I told him to tell me how he felt and i took what he told me and turned it into this for him. He told me after I he didn't know how, but I found his words for him.))

Dear Grandma,
Yesterday, you took your last breath as a human and started on a new journey as an angel in heaven. As our family comes together and leans on each other for support and comfort, I can't help but picture the smile on your face as you are greeted by our family who have gone before you. I like to picture the look on your face when you ran to embrace your mother and father for the first time in ever so long. I can only imagine the joy you felt when you took your sisters hand and walked along the streets of gold. How beautiful it must have been to lay eyes on Jesus for the first time and how much love you felt when you danced with all our brothers, grand children, grand parents, and friends who were waiting for you. Oh the party you must have been thrown to celebrate your return home.
I know not every step you took was of pure joy, as you looked back at the family who loved you so much and could see and feel the grief in our hearts as we said our good yes. Your heart ached for us and you wished you could ease our pain. Knowing we would have to rely on one another to aid in our healing. I could feel you as you moved to put your arms around us, one last hug, before you headed home to wait for us. I can hear your voice faintly whisper to me, "I'm alright now. I no longer feel pain." I can feel the warmth of your kiss on my forehead as you tell me " I love you." and know your words are forever true.
Grandma, I know you would want us all to rejoice in your memory, and be happy you are home. I also know you understand why our hearts are heavy and we grieve. i know you will always be right here with us, holding our hands. Waiting, watching, and loving us. I will never forget how safe I felt when Skip would be working night shifts and I would sleep in your bed. You held my hand as we slept . You gave me a home when I didn't have one. You were my best friend when no one else wanted to be. You were my mother when mom wasn't able to be. No matter what happened in life you were there. even though I may not always see you, I know you will still be there for me. With all the love in my heart, I do not say goodbye, but I will see you another time. When the years are done ticking by and my journey comes to an end. I know you will be by my bed side ready to take my hand and lead me home.
Please tell everyone I love them and I miss them so much. Until we meet again, I dedicate this next song to you. May its words bring comfort to our family and friends. As the message is just as much for them.
Love always,
Cyn~Cyn

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aOwhJxuBtEI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z4F_cXGQN9k