.Slime.Heads.

Growing up wasn't so easy.

Well, that's very stupid of me to say since everyone kinda agrees... right?

Everyone has their own problems. Some greater than others and some barely any. For example my family, my big complicated family, thanks to our father, that is. We were a close family such as always getting together on Sundays to just hang out and relax. We were tight, but with issues among us and by that I mean my family consisting of my mother, father, my step-mother, and sister... step... sister.

This is the part where it gets complicated, so let me sit down and gather my thoughts for a bit...

So, my father was and still is married to my step-mother. They met at a fair when my father worked at a cotton candy stand and she worked at the ticket booth. They fell in love and yadda yadda yadda whatever I was told after that was loads of crap! They didn't get together instantly, no. They met and two years later they meet again and then got together.

After a couple of months, my father met my step-mothers sister, Grace or my mother, in other words. Everything was fine and dandy until they had a drunken mistake. Me.

During the time of them figuring out what to do about their mistake, surprise surprise, June or my step-mother, announced her pregnancy. Before they could come up with the solution of abortion, it was too late to get rid of me.

Yes, there was yelling.

Yes, there was crying.

And yes, it was chaos.

My father was hated among the families, including his. Knowing that he was part of the cause, he buckled down and got an excellent job as a lawyer. He earned lots of money, able to maintain both the new born babies and his baby mommas.

Then came the the hardest part for my little family. My father married my step-mother, leaving my mother and I alone to celebrate almost every holiday. He never took me out to eat or dropped me off at school. He never called to speak to me, he would only call to make sure the money was transferred to help my mother pay for everything she couldn't.

When I would see him, he would only wave. Well, if he saw me. I saw myself as a friend of his daughter instead of his actual daughter. It was tough.

Riley had brown hair.

I had black.

She has a car.

I have a bike.

She's known around school, but not enough to be popular.

I had some few friends that I didn't really trust enough to call them best friends.

She was a dancer.

I was a musician.

She lived comfortably in a two story house.

I lived peacefully in a small one story house.

She wore light colors, natural colors, and sometimes pastel, depending on how she felt.

I always wore dark shades of red, green, black and white. Hardly any 'happy' colors.

Despite our differences, we both don't really bother each other. We're not mean or nasty to one another.

I hated her family of three. It wasn't fair. I missed out on having a father because of her selfish mother and her stuck up personality.

I'm Wyatt Colombo, seventeen (soon to be eighteen), and honestly, I've given up.

Notes

I will most likely post much more on my Wattpad account (@BuzzcockScum).