Why?

Why is it that family has to be so frustrating and difficult? Why aren't there more hours in the day? Why do my parents have to have massive financial crises my entire life? Why do I have to be my brothers' mother? Why do I get yelled at for things that I don't have time for? Why do we have to have Oreo? Why don't I have someone I can cry to at any time? Why do I have to be such a big person at such a young age? Why can't I get paid more? Why can't things be easier?

I get sick and tired of coming home to a filth-hole that even pigs would be to good for. I get tired of the mess. I get tired of the junk. I get tired of being tired. I try and get my brothers to clean up the house a little bit and they do nothing. I try to talk to my parents about it and all they do is yell at me. I try, I really do try and help out around here. It gets so hard when all my extra time is spent on homework.

I do my homework every night, hoping that I can get through it and then it'll be done and maybe I'll have some extra time. No. I never have extra time. I try to make good grades in school, hoping that maybe for once my parents will be proud of me. My hopes are dashed. You'd think they'd understand my point of view; they come home to the same filth-hole and they don't like it any better than I do but they don't ask the boys to clean, they don't try and clean it up, they sit and watch tv because they're tired from work. Ok, I can understand that to an extent, but when the boys aren't ever cleaning, when the house is always dirty, you'd think they'd try and do something about it instead of yelling at us for not doing anything. I'm tempted to stay home from classes tomorrow and do nothing but clean the house - I don't have any tests tomorrow.

Here's my dilemma: If I clean the house, I make bad grades from lack of studying. If I make good grades, the house stays dirty. No matter which one I do, my parents have some reason to gripe, and they don't hesitate to do so. I don't mean to rag on my parents so much, they try to be good parents.

At work, we have a section of runs and cages which are rented from us by Highland Village Animal Control. The only dog in there right now has stolen my heart. My co-worker and I have named him Romeo since he's the sweetest dog - he's such a lover. I asked my parents (a.k.a. mom) if we could think about adopting him. She refused to have a third dog (which is understandable considering our living arrangements) and said that if we were to have him, we'd have to put down one of our other dogs first. Unfortunately the one we'd pick would be the healthiest one - the one we love will probably die on his own within a year anyways. This sounds cruel - it's not the way it sounds. I'm going to shut up now.

My life is a tightrope walk, but what happens if I fall off?