Looking at both sides of my parentage is like looking at a dead tree still watering itself. And un-amazingly so, I am the very black sheep of both. My mother's side is the zealots and my father's side is the travelers.
Both with pasts so dark, tangled, and twisted that denial and anger are common and comfortable dishes served everyday. As a child I was a pleaser and very soft hearted when it came to living creatures both insect and fuzzy. These two beautiful traits where easy targets for my family members. The rules always changed and good was never quite good enough. Praise was rare and sprinkled with but it could be betters or your half-siblings, cousins, my friends kid did it like this's. In the whole of my childhood something always felt off, something always felt simply wrong all the time. Dad and mom where masters of saying something then doing another. If they weren't fighting each other it was somebody else, but rarely did they fight together. I seemed to be instantly born with a distrust of people, their words and even their actions. There were other issues I had that I didn't know I had until I got older, things that parts of my family still do not believe in despite the world today.
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