Someday? I Hope So.

Growing up for me was hard.
I know what you're thinking? Well, no I don't, but I must come off as obnoxious right? It's hard for a lot of people, a lot of black people, so why am I different? I know that hey, I'm in the first world and don't really have a lot of problems, but to each their own and how they deal with problems. First this is my first story.
No one might not read this, and I know it's probably not grammatically correct or even interesting, but I don't know. I just want to vent for a little bit. After all, I've never really vented before after all of these years of struggling with it so I might as well start here, now, on Experience Project.
Well, anyways, when I was about one years old and a half, my mom died and this Thanksgiving was the anniversary. I know, I know, so what? A lot of people's parents die and they actually have memories and I don't. Well, it's been a struggle growing up and never having someone to bond with over that. Many people tell me that I look just like her or she used to do that or this, and well, it drives me up a wall to know I'll never have that experience with her. To hear her say, "I love you". It sucks to hear everyone got a little piece of her, to just hear her voice, and I didn't.
Besides, she could have aborted me for her health, but she didn't out of love and that's a real ultimate sacrifice so it pains me even more not to know how wonderful she really was for myself.
I'm glad though, her mom, my maternal grandmother, has been there from the start. I've always known her as 'mommy', 'mama', and now 'mom'. She's worked so hard to make sure that I don't become apart of the trend in our dangerous neighborhood. She wanted better for me, and if that meant keeping me in the house and away from the neighborhood kids and keeping me in the church belonging to one of the strictest denominations of Protestantism, then so be it. Besides, there were gangs shooting, cutting, raping, and robbing people outside anyways.
Well, I went to church three times a week and Catholic school, never public school. We moved from a dilapidated, old, dirty apartment building full of rats and whatnot where you can hear people getting murdered or raped to a somewhat decent house two blocks away from the suburbs and another Catholic school, only not in the city, but the suburbs.
Even though I've been blessed to have the opportunities, I've never fit in and although I have people I hang out with during school hours, I don't particularly consider them my 'friend' in my mind and heart.
In grade school second through eighth, it had been a black populated school, and I never was quite 'ghetto'. I could never get with the ebonics or country talkin. I didn't have enough money to keep up with the fashion whether it be Rocawear, Baby Phat, or whatever else, but I had a couple of pieces. I never had the latest weaves or whatnot, or the biggest butt ever so I never really dated often. The kiddy boyfriends don't count as I had four, but you know how that goes.
I was always considered an oreo, the vanilla kind since I'm golden brown, because I talked proper, but I somewhat felt a little connection. After all, I had and have no idea who my biological father is at all, not a name or picture. That was the same for some while the others didn't have their dad because he didn't want that child or was in prison.
I've always been smart, after all, I started writing in legit and readable cursive in kindergarten as well as learning from the advanced math books my mom gave me from the school she worked as an under minimal wage making secretary before she got a new game making better than that when I was in kindergarten.
My whole world and my grades fell apart when my dad left.
No, he's not biologically my father and I've always known that although I was 'too small to know that' according to my mom's mom, my great grandma. However, I felt it and so I never called him dad, but by his real name.
For protection purposes, I'll call him, 'Bill'.
Bill has according to my mom, always been there for me, but he had a wife and two other kids so I barely saw him, but he gave me all the toys I wanted. He came around every few months and I spent the night with my younger 'siblings' and my 'step brother'. However, he split and eventually divorced his wife to marry someone I thought looked like a crackhead and had sons as well.
Just one day out of nowhere, I was waiting for Bill on Christmas of fifth grade, but he never came. I tried calling him, but he never picked up, and I knew what was happening.
He abandoned me.
There seemed to be some curse on my family that whenever a woman has a child out of wedlock(great grandma, grandma, and mom), the man seems to abandon the child or children in my biological maternal grandmother's case as she had four and that was just mentally not physically walking out, I guess so I knew that I couldn't depend on him either.
When I needed someone else to try for the first time to open up to, I tried to lean on my godmother, but she abandoned me too.
I had no one to talk to since I didn't really talk a lot, and couldn't fathom what was going on. My mom was the provider and wasn't really into the emotional stuff. Neither was my great grandma, my older brothers or sister(biologically my uncles and aunt) so I was alone and my grades dropped drastically.
Somehow and someway, by the grace of God, I got into one of the most elite private schools in the midwest. I was set, if I got good grades there, I'd basically get into any college as I've seen it with the alumni. If I went to a good college, I could get an amazing job and give my mom the world and so much more for all she has done for me so I graduated high school looking for a new start, something fresh and new.
Someone really should have stressed that high school was going to be a new ball game.
In my class of 300+, there are only like twelve black people, four of them girls, two of them half and half, and no I'm not the half and half. Some of the students there are of upper class families with brothers and sisters and two parents, the rest are middle class families with the same two parents and brothers and/or sisters, I know no one else in the same situation as me.
I've always been an outcast for being too proper, but now I've been an outcast for being too hood. I don't know why, but just to fit in, I lied. Yep, I know, it's terrible, but I did, just to fit in. I was tired of being lonely, but it got me nowhere in the end. Sure, I still talk to the people, but they've just never really been my friend. More of 'acquaintances', but the point is, I've never had a real friend. Someone I can share all of this too.
I've felt really lost and so alone and my grades suffered as I know it's probably too late to dig myself from this hole to get into a really good college and a scholarship or grant.
But I'm still hoping and praying that somehow I will
I'm not ready to discuss, but because of my depression, I've done some really strange things. However, as I graduate from high school, I'm starting to feel hope. That I'll no longer be depressed, that I won't just stay in the bed having no will power to get up and see the world. I have hope that someday, I will break the curse, meeting my love, and him waiting for me until marriage, and have kids afterwards. I hope that someday, I really can give my mom the world, and that I can open my heart to forgive Bill, my godmother, and my grandfather for leaving me when I needed them most.
Most of all, I just hope to live. Live the life I have been granted by my biological mom and hope that she's happy and proud of me wherever she is.
manololoverfashionaddict manololoverfashionaddict
22-25, F
1 Response Nov 26, 2012

((((((((hug))))))))))
God will not waste any of your experiences. He loves you and is delighted with who you are created to be, no matter who treats you poorly.

You mentioned feeling like an oreo because you are stereotyped for not acting a certain way. you are not an oreo. God made you black and you are a Classy black lady, not an oreo sweetie.

Have a blessed day and continue to be yourself. You are loved.