Don't Let Me Drown
Four years ago. She packed up her shit and walked out. Left her kids. Left them with nothing but the memory of their dead father. Everything. Changed.
My life was a shit show. When I was 13 years old, I was diagnosed with depression, after a social worker split up my brother and I. The drugs helped. The anti-depressants stopped me from feeling. The made me numb to the world and I loved it.
I’m seveteen years old. I’m a junior in high school, barely maintaining a C average. My brother, Parker, is a senior. We moved and got a loft in Sheffield, England last year, after he was approved by the U.S. government as my legal guardian.
He worried about me too much. He acted like he was my father, giving me rules and a curfew to follow. But we couldn’t have that, now could we? Truth be told, he was all I had. I didn’t know what I’d do without him. I just needed him to get off my back, but then again, nothings ever easy.