Essay about I Looked Around My Home

938 Words Sep 29th, 2015 4 Pages
I looked around my home. The walls appeared strong and firm. No holes anywhere, where could they be? I knew they must be somewhere, but my search for a gap, or even a crack, went unfound. Therefore, I thought maybe it would be my father’s house punctured. However, when I looked around his place, I became equally disappointed. Yet, despite this, people insisted that I came from a broken home.
As a child, I did not know what they meant. However, I know now that they did not mean “broken” literally. I can still remember, that provocative question inside of me, “if my home is as sturdy as everyone else’s, then why am I labeled as different?” It is a painful reality that has taken me years to accept. I used to wonder: if it is bad to break things, is it bad to be broken too?
All the years of anxiety and apprehension destroyed my family. Instead of being one supportive unit, our home had been one of incessant fighting and worry. When I close my eyes, I can still imagine it – the constant bickering, throwing things across the room, and yelling at one another for the smallest of things. I remember lying in bed at night, praying to God to make it stop. I hated Mommy and Daddy fighting. Months went by and it only got worse. I will never forget the night when everything went downhill. I have replayed this embedded memory over a thousand times. The uneasiness and constant silence made it an eerie night in the Littlejohn home. Throughout dinner, my mother and father just stared at…

Related Documents