Growing up

It's currently 1:48pm. It's a little early, because I have noticed how much more time there is when you are awake in the day time. I grew up poor. My parent's weren't always home, my parent's were mostly working, I think that is what shaped my view on living, or being an adult. I want to have what I never got as a child, vacations, time with myself. I think that my parent's did their best, regardless of what I turn into, I think they did all they could for my sister and I. Sure, I could have been told that I was loved more often, but I can understand why they would not be able to say, instead they would try and show me, with the little things, like getting me food, or buying me clothing, albeit ugly, comfortable. I blocked out most of the things in my childhood that hurt me. There's a lot of chunks of my youth that are simply gone, like parts that my brain decided to forget. I remember specifically, as a kid I told myself, in private, that I would begin my memory here, in a car, in the middle of winter. I looked out of the window of my parent's car, which was deformed by the years of mistreatment by the previous owner. I looked outside to a winter wonderland, the snow that blanketed over the quite alarming number of gang signs and the neighborhood that was littered with homes that resembled crack houses. I told myself," this is where I want to start my memory". Maybe I wanted to hide myself, from the things that I saw, from the things that I knew about my past. To be a better person, a better being. I don't think it's enough, though. Because the memories will eventually crawl back, they will eventually eat me alive, and maybe I won't like who I become, when they return. I guess we will see, in the future.