the Dirt Under Your Feet.

I am hated. I have no doubt about that. Not one at all. In my household I am either a ghost coldly ignored and unseen, or I am the child who does everything wrong, even when I do something right. I ask for something I am so passionate about. (and, don't get me wrong, I don't ask for things more than five dollars, and anything under that hardly ever. I know my place in the sceme of things now.) Music literally is beauty to me. Pure elegance. This is why I currently play three instruments. Now, it may seem greedy to you, the reader, that I am deeply upset because I cannot learn a fourth, the violin, but let me explain the situation before you judge, deal?
I have asked to play the Cello for a long, long time. I absolutely love it's sound. Though, I understand why I can't, it's way too expensive. I get that. What I don't get, can't get, is why I cannot rent a violin. If it wasn't for my mom, I would get it. Completely. I'm always told we can't afford it, and with the Economic Crisis and Debt crashing down around us, I understand. I don't get, though, how if we can't spare a few bucks every few months how my mother can afford Seventy-dollar swimsuits. How she can get a hundred dollar ring monthly, fifty to sixty dollar pants weekly, twenty dollar shirts daily, and a gym membership (when she can hardly walk). How does she think we can afford having her spend the money we don't have when we can't shave a few dollars for my passion?
Do you see why I'm grumpy now? And, though they aren't as bad as my mother, Papi and Bubu do the same thing. Being the unwanted one is truly hell, and I hope none of you can sympathize with that. Why can't they ever be proud? I've lost my sense of way in this house. I know my place but I don't like or want my place. Why, you ask? Because my place is with the dirt under my family's feet.
That's all I am... The dirt under your feet.