I hate Wednesdays. Wednesdays I have to go to work from 6 in the morning and only get home at 9:30 in the evening, because I have to go to all three of my jobs. What’s worse is coming home and cooking, because I have four mouths to feed. No, I’m not a single mom working three jobs to support her kids. I’m an 18-year-old supporting his ill family.
As soon as I get home I have four adults all over me asking for money. Two are my parents, two are my brothers. They’re not exploiting me, don’t worry about that.
“How did your wrists feel today, mom? And your back, dad?” I asked my parents. My parents and my brothers suffer from a chronic illness that affects their joints and makes them unable to work. It’s genetic, but it thankfully skipped me. If it wasn’t for me, my family would be lost. I started telling my family about the day I had as I made us all sandwiches, but they stopped paying attention to me the moment I told them I had no money for spending this week. I got tired of this situation sometimes, but my family had taken care of me all my life, until they all fell ill. Yes, I had to deal with people screaming at me all day that they wanted to speak to my manager, but before I had teachers screaming at me, so there wasn’t that big of a difference.
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