Weird Life Part 1

I still remember when I was seven years old, born into circumstances that were far from ideal compared to most other children. I could only watch other kids happily enjoying what they had. One of them was Elsa (not her real name). Elsa seemed to be born into the perfect life. By “perfect,” I mean she never had to worry about what she would eat the next day, and anything she wanted was immediately granted by her parents.

Meanwhile, I had to struggle endlessly just to achieve that same “ideal” life. Ironically, no matter how hard I tried, the results were always disappointing.

Sometimes I wonder whether there was something wrong with me when I was brought into this world, or if this is simply how the world works. Injustice always seemed to be present in my life. Elsa, the girl I mentioned earlier, was an only child, and her family was more than well-off compared to mine. Her father was a retired private-sector employee, while her mother worked as a prosecutor at the district court. The house Elsa and her family lived in was luxurious, almost like a Hollywood celebrity’s mansion. They were not extremely wealthy to the point of needing bodyguards, but her family was highly respected and well known in the neighborhood.

Yet the world works in strange ways. I met Elsa completely by accident.

I have not explained in detail why I longed so much for a life like Elsa’s, so let me tell you a little about my situation. I was the oldest of two siblings. Both my parents were only high school graduates, and the one who mostly supported our lives—mine and my younger sibling’s—was my mother. I came from a broken home, so my father no longer lived with us.

My father was far from an ideal figure. I say that because he ran away from his responsibilities as the head of the family. At first, I thought maybe I was wrong to judge him that way, but as I grew older, I realized it was true. He was a father who always put his ego first, and almost every day there was something that led to terrible arguments. There would be shouting, curses, and things being thrown around. Whenever it started happening, all I could do was stand up for my mother. My younger sibling was still very small and powerless at the time, only able to cry.

The days I lived through were heartbreaking. Not only did those violent arguments happen constantly, but our financial situation also grew worse and worse. Sometimes I had to go an entire day without eating, as long as I could save something for my mother and younger sibling.

Because of that situation, I had to find extra income. I collected empty bottles and plastic waste from the streets, then sold them once I had gathered enough. Well believe it or not i found a weird .....

To be Continued

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