So, when I was born, my dad just up and left us. Mum raised me all on her own. Looking back now, though, I realise she wasnt exactly what youd call a proper parent. As far back as I can remember, she was either off her head, nowhere to be found for days, or bringing dodgy friends round to the house.
Up until I was about ten, I honestly thought that was how everyones childhood played out. I assumed the other kids went through the same thing.
By the time secondary school rolled around, I started working odd jobs here and there. I just wanted to have something to eat, and in the village there was always work that needed doing. Sometimes I got a bit of cash for it, sometimes just a hot meal.
After I left school, I tried to find some kind of proper job. But coming from a poor family, with no connections or money to fall back on, it was nearly impossible so I just had to manage with whatever I could get, just like my mum always had.
I never did understand where she got money from all the time. Any penny I brought home, I put towards food. I suppose she was set in her ways, didnt seem to want anything to change.
About three years ago, this bloke started turning up at our house more and more often. He looked down on his luck, but not like a complete drunk. He was generally decent to me, though in truth, he barely even noticed me most of the time. For a little while, I actually hoped hed be a good influence on Mummaybe things might change for us if we all lived together, get a fresh start away from this mess.
As it turned out, my hopes werent completely out of reach. After a few months of him popping by nearly every day, he moved in with us. He never acted openly unfriendly towards me, but he made it pretty obvious he would rather pretend I didnt exist. Honestly, I thought things might finally be looking up, but I couldnt have been more mistaken.
About six months into us all living together, I came back home one evening. I had my wages, money Id slogged for, and I thought Mum, who’d seemed so down lately, would be happy for a bit of good news.
But as soon as I walked through the door, she started shouting that I wasnt welcome any morethat I needed to leave right there and then. I was completely taken aback, I genuinely couldnt understand what Id done to deserve it. But I knew there was no reasoning with her in that state. I ended up kipping at a mates house and hoped it was just Mum being herself and shed calm down in a day or two.
No such lucknext day, same thing, she forced me out. It turned out her new partner had never liked me and eventually talked her into getting rid of me. And, incredibly, she just agreed.
So, there I was, homeless at twenty-one. If it hadnt been for my friends being absolute lifesavers, letting me crash at theirs and treating me like family, I dont know where Id be. I scrape by, just like I did before, doing any jobs I can get.
So when people go on about how ungrateful kids are and how they dont respect their parents, well sometimes there really is more to the story. Some of us have proper reasons.
