I don’t feel good. I don’t think I’m okay.

Last night, I got to wondering what I’ve done for people I’ve known for years and years to treat me the way they did. I would never say the things they’ve said to me to someone I call family or friend. Maybe I’m just stupid like that.

Hey mum, guess what? You were right. I did grow up to be stupid, worthless and nothing more than a disappointment. You called it, right back in primary school. Why did you even have me? Why didn’t you get rid of me when the doctor told you I wasn’t the boy you wanted? I wish you did. You should have. I wouldn’t know what it’s like to have a child who is a dead weight, but I can imagine it’s a constant frustration. A constant mark against your unrealistic expectations.

I’m such a coward. Over the years, I haven’t learnt to stand up for myself at all. I haven’t even learnt to take it better. If anything, all I have managed to do is to hide myself away more and more. I don’t want to see the people who said those things to me, don’t want to speak to them ever again. It’s humiliating that I’ve reached a point where I’m happy to be isolated from the rest of the world.

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