Last Updated 20 Dec 2022

A Personal Narrative on the Authors Struggle of Dealing with a Broken Home

Category Broken Home
Words 587 (3 pages)
Views 4

When I watch the rain falling from my window, every thing looks different. Nothing seems complete anymore. Ever since Dad left a few weeks ago, things haven't been the same. Now, Mom is always drinking, yelling and throwing things. Home just isn't a place I want to be anymore. I can't help but think that I am the reason why my Dad left. That I'm the reason my home is a broken one. Maybe I asked for things too much. Didn't listen enough, maybe I was disobedient. I blame myself.

It's my own fault Mom is acting this way. Bring home different men every night. It's hard to go to sleep at night, because there's always noise coming from her room. It isn't easy for me to see her constantly drunk and in a rage. She hasn't been taking things easy. Every since Dad left, she's been a mess. She's barely even my Mother anymore.

Maybe if I had done things differently, things would have been better. Dad would have stuck around, and Mom wouldn't be like this. This is so frustrating! It's hard for me too. I don't have a Dad anymore. Yeah. I don't have a Dad anymore. He's gone. Out of my life completely, for good. And Mom... Well I can forget about bringing any friends home.

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It's time I faced it. My life is in shambles, and it seems to be completely irreparable. There's nothing I can do to fix it anymore. I have to stand by and watch my Mother make a mockery of herself. Me, I get to do this, fatherless. Suddenly, the thought comes to mind that there's no way I can live my life like this. I can't hide in embarrassment of my Mother's actions. I can't go through my life being abused and beaten and I certainly can't deal without a father.

I spot the gleaming knife from the other side of room, and it calls to me, seducing me. My attention is turned away from my window. The idea that all my pain could be over so quickly intrigues me. I begin to walk towards the knife, and pick it up, filling immense power in my hands. The power to take away my own life lies in my hands.

I hold the knife up to the light and I watch as it sparkles. At this moment, I feel fearful, and calm all at the same time. I also feel hope, because I know my pain will end soon. I pick up the knife and begin to cut into my wrists. At first, I push lightly, just washing tiny droplets of blood surface onto my skin. Then, I gain courage and decide to make a game to see how deep I can push, to see how much I can make myself blood.

Finally, in my one last cut, I use all my strength, channeling all my energy. I feel the blood seep out of my skin, oozing. I hold up my hands to look at them, a bit shocked at the pain and surprise I feel from seeing my blood all over myself. I feel myself growing woozy, and I want to fall asleep. My knees give in, and I find myself lying down on the floor in a pool of blood. I see my Mother rush in and try to awaken me. It's too late. I'm leaving now. Leaving this world to a better place. A place where I can forever watch the rain fall in peace.

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