What is the meaning of life, its subjective I know, but rather, bleak?

I once thought life was the endless memories I would share with my mom and dad and that each day my day revolved around shapes, colors and cartoons.

When my father worked for the government he would never tell me exactly what he did and his friends always referred to him as "G man". I was inclined to brag about him because I though he was my superhero.

Little did I know that he was abuse to my mother and rather destructive with his anger problems. My mother was a young mother and was rather naive at times which I feel lead her to a disadvantage in the family dining room.

Because of my false sense of reality I had no friends and was very anti social growing up. I would play with Legos and build wondering make believe cities and etc.. I wanted to believe that I had the power to create and thus advance in my life. I wanted the perfect family as my dream.

Once I got older I knew that life was full of people, unknown faces and the like that come and go. Like when my grandmother passed away. My mother left the country and never came back for 6 years.

My dad and I formed a bond and I thought that I subdued his anger and that I could make something out of it. Him and I faced every challenge together and I felt like my dad was once again the superhero and that I was the creator of my fictional world again.

By the time I could barely drive he had cancer and I was devastated. My mother returned and now the dream was ruined. The dream was supposed to be the perfect family, then it changed to the perfect father. Now it had changed to can we save my dad in time.

Now he is in prison for fighting and I have no clue what to do with my life. My mother and I don't get along and she took control of the house and etc.
I know that she was scared of my fathers inner demon and that she had no choice but to fight back, but to use me as bait is just horrible. I am disturbed by Both of my parents.

I'm now living in a former crack in the wall of what used to be the room of memories and good times, but is know just a fragment of the past that I am holding on to. I yearn for the day when I can spread my wings without the braces of the past and fly to victory and beyond.

My family calls me crazy but I know for a fact that I have no crazy in me, just imagination and using that imagination I'm going to finish college and I don't care if it takes me 10 years I will finish it.

But at the same time I ask myself. What is my dream, just petty revenge from cold words that I cant succeed cause people think I have a mental disorder. My disorder was the fact that I was blind sided with a false evil seeking family.

My dream I have no clue what it is anymore. I have the tools of the past but they don't suffice against my awesome imagination and what I can mentally cook up.
I just want a shelter in a world full of manufactured love and the like.

I remember the past for what it was like and know the present for the nothing that it gives me. I hate talking to the ones responsible for the murder of my naive mind. I was probably better in the high state of mind cause things were going somewhat in control. The world is a great beast that shows mercy to no one.