I was born into a very kind and caring family. I had both parental figures, and they loved each other. I had two older brothers, and they where very protective and hyper. I was my parents first girl, and they loved me so much. For 7 years, my life was great. I had two new younger siblings, making me the middle. But it didn't matter, my parents didn't pick favorites. I had many friends at school, I got to do so many of my favorite activities. I saw movies, baked with my grandparents, went camping all the time. My dad even built my siblings and I a tree house so we could be outside all the time. My mom, she was such a loving person. She helped people, she made sure to be friends with anyone who needed a shoulder to cry on, she was so caring. Her love, it was unconditional. And so was my fathers, but he was the typical american dad. Motorcycles, hunting, grilling, church every Sunday. A all around family man. He loved my mother, his wife. And he loved all five of his kids, and made sure we knew it. Everything bad seemed to happen when we moved from our small town, to a whole new state. The first year was okay, a little bumpy. My grandparents moved with us, so I still had all of my aunts and uncles to hang out with. (They were ages 18 through 11, and still lived with my grandma and grandpa.) But my parents started to turn into meaner people. I thought it was just stress from the move, and I didn't mind it. Then they would start to fight. A lot. I was only in the first grade, so I was scared. I thought they would get a divorce, and that we would have to choose between parents. That was the thing I was most scared of. Now, I sadly say I wish they had back then. Things might be better for our family now. Anyway, the fighting only grew worse when I was in 3rd grade. My father cheated on my mother, and the fights escalated from arguments to screaming and throwing things. All through the night, and I knew every detail. My mother did not refrain from telling my siblings and I anything. She did not trust him, but she believed god wanted them to be together, and he would heal there marriage. After a year, my parents had enough of our town, and said we were moving again. A fresh start. No affairs, no past wrongs. It was perfect. Almost. My father cheated again, only one year after we moved. And the fights came again. These past years have been horrible, and everything is weighing on my shoulders like a dumbbell. I love my parents so much, but they are.. I don't know. My mom is now a very cold and harsh person. And my dad is now violent and rude. No one else in my family seems to care, but I do. There relationship is toxic. They fight, then say they love each other. Then bad mouth one another behind there heads. Trust is gone, and now I'm left in a broken family with no outlet. My friends were, but now we are in lock down and I am stuck alone. They have phones, but they don't respond. Everyday I feel like breaking down, but the thought of one day growing up and having a good family like mine when I was young, and keeping it like that keeps me going. I sometimes wish we had never moved from our small town, but would that really have changed anything? Maybe, maybe not. But my life is not horrendous, and I feel for those who lives are. I hope anyone reading this is safe and healthy, have a good week everyone.