In the small town of Ontario , I get in the rusty old truck my dad gave me before he left . It was just him and I , traveling the world before he told me he didn't want our kind of family . I was heart broken . He told me the trip was because he loved me and wanted me to never forget him , until he broke the news to me . He had met another woman , and she offered him everything we could never afford . Not that we're poor , but we aren't average either . My mom , my little brother , and I share what we have and take every chance we get to gain supplies . We live in an apartment by a thrift store where we get most of our clothes . My brother , almost like a genius when it comes to problems , is a carer just as much as my mom is . Or , was . You know , before she lost all desires and was so dull she could barely even care for us anymore . I'm dropping off Tristen , my brother , when something comes to mind . How does he survive all the painful times occurring in our broken hearted family ? Am I really that emotional ? No . In 4th grade , people called me Wednesday . Like the depressed tortured girl from " The Addams Family " . I used to watch the cartoon versions of it , because plays are too expensive . When I was only nine years old , I spent all day thinking about if people really act like that . I feel bad for people like them , mistaken for who they really are . Mislead , treated unfairly , unspoken of even . Nice people shaped into horrible images by others worthy of it .