When I Was Fifteen

Guille Faingold
Guille Faingold

When I was fifteen, I saw my mother cry hysterically and my father yell ferociously. I sat nervously pressed against my locked bedroom door as I heard glass break against the tile floors and doors slam so hard the windows shook. The chaos behind my strawberry frosting colored door was louder than the rapid beating of my breaking heart. I don’t exactly know where it went wrong or why their love diminished, but that day I learned that love wasn’t invincible. The next day my father stood at the front door with his clothes packed in a duffle bag and asked me to choose sides. When I chose my mother he stopped calling, he stopped visiting–he stopped being my father. That day I learned that words dig deeper than knives and that they can leave the biggest scars. In the end, I learned that the people you love don’t always stay. TC mark


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  • BlackMadJick

    this is a very sad story. im sorry you had to go through that. i grew up in a house where my parents would always fight but not to the extent of leaving each other however i came from a marriage where my husband left me although we didnt go through hurting or shouting at each other one day he just left casue he said he no longer loves me

  • http://anneguan.wordpress.com anneguan

    yeah, sometimes people forget why they love the people they used to love. some forget the true meaning of love. people really need to know the true value of marriage and family.

  • http://indepthwoman.wordpress.com indepthwoman

    I can relate as my father hates me and was always jealous that I loved my mom more, but she passed. All I know of him is abuse. He was always arguing and yelling every day. He wanted me to choose I wasn’t and never will.

  • https://brenicojayblog.wordpress.com/2016/03/09/when-i-was-fifteen/ When I Was Fifteen – Lifestyle Writing
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