So my parents were meth addicts when I was growing up and my Moher is manic depressive.
After years of neglect that I can no longer remember, I went to live with my Grandmother with my two sisters. Things were hard growing up, we lived off of my Grandma's disability checks and food stamps, since child support was rarely paid on time.
During my younger teenage years my parents constantly tried to buy my affection, thinking material objects meant as much to me as an actual parent figure like all my friends had.
My grandmother passed a few days after I graduated high school and I managed to get a last second dorm on my college campus since I really had no other options for my living situation. I failed miserably in my second semester of school after not being able to cope with the fact that I was on my own at eighteen without the one person who loved me unconditionally in my life.
I cracked under the pressure and stopped going to school. Out of options I ended up living with my parents again for the first time since I was a kid. This lasted a little over two years and finally hit a head after getting a grand stolen from me and my puppy taken to the pound while I was at work.
Haven't spoke since and I'm not close to my two sisters. I rely on my friends as my only real source of love after the girl I was seeing and I went separate ways.