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Forms Of Abuseimages from the stories


I’ve always been good at it, you know, like out there on the footy field, I don’t have to think about anything else, just the game. I’ve never been good for school stuff, but… even from little. Teachers always called me daydreamer and that. But I think maybe… I remember in primary school I’d always be thinking about home. ‘What can I do to make things better?’ ‘How can I take dad’s mind off picking on mum?’


I think maybe I tried to be good at footy for dad… I don’t know. Just, after he moved out I used to try and get him to come to a match, but he’d never show. Always blame it on mum, make out she was the bad guy, you know, say that she didn’t tell him. I’d like, be hanging for him to, you know, pick me up still, though, take me out to the oval, but he’d always, like, make a scene, when they’d do the handover. Oh and he’d want to know about mum, what she’s been doin’… You know, just bagging her, wasting all our time together, just… He bought me a new footy though. But I still feel bad because he didn’t get my sister anything, just because she said that she didn’t want to see him any more. I’m sort of in the middle, you know… Like, it shit’s me that my sister can’t understand why I still want to see him.


I feel bad for mum, not helping her, stop dad laying into her. I try not to think about it too much.