DFF (Divorced, Friends Forever)

Obviously, my parents are divorced and unlike many teenagers I’ve heard of who lives in America, -where I come from it is a normal thing to live with your parents- I live with my mom.

The family I was born into is rather strange; the sufferings of many before and the lives of the generation before mine wasn’t quite the fairy tale. It is the 1900’s version of ‘Anna Karenina’ , ‘Les Miserables’, and all those other books and even those might not be able to cover it entirely.

Life was handed to me in a silver tray; growing up, economically we were decent. We almost never had excess money to invest and never ran out of it in the long run either.
We are still pretty sweet as a family if you are a stranger looking in. If you knew about us, you would smile to our faces and whisper behind our backs about how strange we all are.

It’s fine.
We are rather peculiar, happy nonetheless.


The peculiarity of my parents is a good example; they are divorced but they are good friends. When my dad -who works abroad- comes, he lives with us. They don’t share the same bed, but they do share their lives.
Looking at them now, it is even better that they are not together together (you know what I mean); they argue less and they are happier.

My problem with this arrangement is that I am ALWAYS left in the middle.
Separately both criticize me; ‘You are so much like your mother!’, ‘You act like your father!’

Come on people!
I am ME, your daughter.

And I don’t want to be like either one of them, of course taking after them is inevitable but I love them both and the situation they put me in sucks.
It must have suck for many others too.

A cliché is coming:
‘Families come in all shapes and sizes but they are families nonetheless.’

Marissa ‘Riss’ Demi


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