Had a heated fight with my parents Saturday. From about eight-thirty pm to two–thirty am. A friend of mine was wondering why my voice suddenly wasn’t so manly and soothing on the phone anymore last night. Well it wasn't because of the boyfriend, but because of one of the parental units who was…well, being aggressive in the hallway. Yeah, so I felt a bit uneasy.

The fight was not about me, nor was it my fault. It was just big drama between the parents as usual, but they were talking so loud and being so hostile towards one another, that I just had to interfere to cool things down.

I will not get into the fight itself that much; it’s their life and I’m not at right to spread the juicy details all over the net, but I will explain a bit of it.

See, the mom has been having emotional problems the last six or seven years. All the bad stuff from her really bad childhood finally came crashing down and she’s trying very hard to recover. She cannot show love or affection, she cannot comfort, cannot really talk about feelings and cannot show emotion. Naturally very tiring for people in her enviroment and also very painful and confusing at times. On top of that a lot of family has died within a few months of each other, which gave both of the parents a lot of stress.

The fight last night was about the mom always falling asleep. It is because of the medicine and she cannot help it. The stepfather has a hard time dealing with this, because she doesn’t seem to fall asleep when she is with other people besides myself and him. Well, of course all the irritations and resentment surfaced and we all had a fucking good time. I’m the glue. I have always been the glue.

Frankly, I've been through and learned much more than most people my age and I had to grow up even before I went to school. I do love my parents a lot and I am grateful that they have taught me to be independent when I was still very young.

Don’t get me wrong, they have paid for everything and I have never had to ask for anything in my entire life, but when I say independent I mean the whole spectrum: I taught myself how to read, how to tell time, how to make my own breakfast, lunch or dinner when my parents were working. When I went to school for the first time, I immediately got a key to the house and walked to school alone. I already learned to deal with my own emotions and fixed my own problems.

My parents got divorced when I was two, and a year or two later I had a new father, a new mother and two new brothers. It was hard for me at the time, still being so young and having so many changes. And since the divorce I have been living with my mother and step-father.

When at my father’s house I always felt like the fifth wheel. It seemed that the two step-brothers were more important and suddenly being the middle child was not helpful either. Though I did not need the attention, I at times did wonder why I was not as important as others.

I could never get along with my step-mother, because she cared and still cares more about her own children. I was not important and I was probably weird, because I was already too smart for my age. It was hard for her to see me, because her children have had many problems with epilepsy and their hearing and later on in life with studying, dealing with other people and behavioural problems. I did and still do not have any of those problems. In can understand the ‘jealousy’, but it does not make any of it okay. Accordingly they got more candy, more attention, more and better toys, more and better clothes and so on.

The fact is that she stole my father away from me. It sounds horrible to say a thing like that and probably also exaggerated, but she has always been trying so hard to drive any attention away from me, that it was all very clear from the get go. It feels stupid now, to fuss over things like that, but for a freaking four year-old, that shit just aches.

It may seem like I’m just wining, but it’s hard to understand when you haven’t been in such a situation yourself. So many other things have happened, which I will not address for it is no use learning about it out of context.

All the bad stuff that has happened has not permanently affected me. It has not scarred me for life and I have a very sane and healthy mind. Of course I used to be angry, but when I was about fifteen I just let it all go and I was at peace with what had happened and what was happening. The shit did not matter anymore. Distancing yourself is a wonderful thing.

All of this has taught me that I am the only person I can count on a hundred percent. I have learned to cut people off without feeling anything. When they ‘leave’ or betray me, I won’t get hurt. It has always been that way and I don’t know better. It’s a defence mechanism, I know. The wall that I’ve built is the thing that is a remainder of all the bad from my childhood. Christ, I’m saying childhood when I’m fucking nineteen.

The past has hardened me. I have learned to act and not to show other people the way I really feel. I have learned to observe and to take in that information. I know what other people like to see in a person and what makes them like that person. Subconsciously I have taken all of that and expressed those qualities towards others. Well, towards the people who I want to be liked by. Toward the people I don’t like I can say the things that will hurt them the most. It’s cold and heartless, I am aware of that. Strangely enough I’m that guy that is always smiling and cheerful, always helpful and understanding. I like it that way. I like to be liked, because to be liked means that I am a good person. I have not cried in years and that is frustrating at time.

Sounds like the past really has affected me in a way. Though I don’t think it has in a bad way. It’s the way I’ve been living since as long as I can remember and the fact is: I just don’t know any better. I am at peace with the person that I am today. But on the other hand, I am still hoping for some kind of change. Maybe learning to open myself up more. Maybe being able to cry when I feel bad. Maybe being able to show more compassion. Or maybe just find out who I really am or who I should have become.

I am not proud or being arrogant about the fact that all this shit has happened. Nor am I feeling superior or special because about it. I never talk about this stuff and it’s nice to just write it down and get it out.

I am thankful for the fact that I can now objectively help my parents and tell them what they are really fighting about, because I have learned to turn the emotion off. I am able to translate what my mother is saying when her inability to comfort, love, talk and help anyone, comes to surface, just so that my stepfather understands. And I can translate his anger into words for my mother.

I am tired. And I feel numb.

I'm just glue, but there should be so much more.

Glue that holds this family together and keeps that little box in my head closed, preventing me from really understanding and grasping all that fucked up shit that has happened.

I am glue.

But I’ve got a gut feeling that this glue is bound to run out.