Autobiography broken family articles
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The one happy memory I have of my parents, the happy, perfect couple, was when I was only six years old. We were on our family trip to Disney World. My parents held hands, shared a few intimate pecks on the lips, and were constantly smiling. As a young girl, I was too ignorant to understand the value and beauty of true love in its purest form. After that, the smiles and kisses turned into the screaming fights and sobbing that woke me up in the middle of the night. I am still not sure if they thought I was listening to them, but I was, for months, and their echoing screams at one another continue to linger in my thoughts today. I was woken up by the yells every night until mom and dad sat me and my seven-year-old brother down to tell us about the divorce they were getting. At six, I was not too familiar with the word "divorce", for it had never come up in one of our vocabulary lessons in school; however, seeing my father cry for the first time made me realize a "divorce" was not something to be excited about.
Fast forward to present day and my parents have been divorced for over ten years now. I am very accustomed to the switching of houses and constantly needing to pack a way-too-big bag in order to stay over my dad's house for o
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What It’s Like Jab Be Rubbish Of A Broken Cover
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My Experience Growing Up from Broken Family
Human-Written
About this sample
About this sample
Human-Written
Words: 1295 |
Pages: 3|
7 min read
Updated: 27 January, 2025
Words: 1295|Pages: 3|7 min read
Updated: 27 January, 2025
I have learned a lot in just my seventeen years of life so far. Coming from a broken family that’s still together, yeah, my parents are still together, but they don’t even look at each other. They are just together for me and my brother . . . to make us happy . . . but now for some reason my brother hates my dad, and I don’t know why. My dad does everything for us, yet there hate for him is in describable. I always feel as though I’m stuck in the middle.
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I love my mum and I love my dad . . . I would jump in front of a bullet for them any day. Little things that I see shatter my heart though. Walking to the kitchen and seeing my dad sleeping on the coach, when he paid for this roof to be over our head. My mums a woman with a strong personality, a wonderful woman . . . but she’s a gambler. She gambled away a good amount of money. which kind of left us in a financially u