To run or to hide

I feel the familiarity of all this. In highschool I couldn't stand Darrin, he was trying to be a father figure, but there was no love in his words. I don't know what is worse, the fact she has never cared about her kids feelings and only her own, or having the tension in the house just because he's here. I feel the heaviness of his hatred, just like I can feel people's feelings. He has no love for any of us, I'm sure if mom didn't have any kids, he would have married her in a heart beat. I'm ready to get out of here, she is nothing like me, minus all of the migranes,depression, and back pain, we couldn't be any more different. I love her, because she is my mother, but I don't love her for being my mom. It hurts me so much for her to say that she helped me learn to read, or that she tucked me in at night, or provided for me, or even loved me or showed me love. If she did, I remember none of it. I remember crawling into bed with grandma and grandpa, I remember them making sure my hair was cut, my clothes fit and were clean, i had a clean bed to lay in, they held me when I didn't make the professional dance class, and celebrated when we were able to go to north carolina with the kids who kept their grades up. They helped me explore and learn, and love. They made sure I got to enjoy extracurricular activities, have friends over, and they celebrated every birthday with my favorite dinner and a cake. It was them I remember, they loved me to make sure I was happy. Their house was always my safe haven, never at my moms. I remember one time i stayed with mom because of dad's orders and i ended up going to school with cat pee on my sweatshirt that I had never noticed. I remember looking forward to lunch time because their was nothing in the fridge for breakfast. I remember begging my dad to let me go on a trip that everyone was going on, but he had refused both times. I remember the fights and abuse that went on in our home, and how my eyes begged for social services to see that the "clean" house she was looking at was because I had stayed home from school all day to clean it and it was a last minute fight to make sure it was just right for her. Truth is..I wanted her to see how messed up everything was...but she never did. I wanted to show her the bruses on my legs from my dad, I wanted her to hear my stomach growling because of the lack of food in it. I wanted her to see how mom wasn't like this normally, and she was usually up stairs in her bedroom sleeping. She never did though... and its been so hard to forgive her for all of that. Now she's a lot better, but the bruises on my heart will always remain. My heart is forever broken from trying to grow up without parents to look up too. I just have to move out, and make sure I don't make the same mistakes with my children. I have to get passed the hurt, so I can have my own happiness. I have to get out of her house.