I wish for the same thing now that I wished for when I was seventeen. But things didn’t work out. I probably should have taken the hint the first time I was replaced. How could someone so in demand ever be mine? It was selfish of me, and more importantly, I wasn’t wanted. The keyword: not needed. I’m not questioning why I’m attracted to the same kind of people who couldn’t give me the love I needed. I can’t impose the burden of my childhood neglect onto someone who has their own traumas. The same reason a daughter struggles to find peace with her mother is exactly why it’s pointless to try. I was on the verge of losing myself, sacrificing my desires to create a family that mirrored the broken one I grew up in. I had so much to say to him—that’s the pronoun I’m using.
I was naive about so many things, and that should have not been just the first sign, but the only one I needed. Why was it so hard to accept that I wasn’t enough? I didn’t come from their womb. I’m not biologically related. If I’m not enough, why do I keep staying? There’s a difference between desperation and sheer foolishness. Replay all those memories in your mind—every time you wished it was kind, but it was only kind in front of an audience, or so it seemed. It was a constant struggle to feel understood. Only when a contract got involved did things start to show. I accept that I’m always going to be hated. I accept that I’m difficult, impossible, and embarrassing. I am nowhere near perfect. It was a constant struggle to stay well-behaved, to not become a villain. It was painful because I wanted to live by their rules, but there were too many, and I was never wise enough to make progress.
They said everything they could, and when it was my turn to speak, all I could do was repeat the things they had drilled into me subconsciously. This might look like I’m playing the victim, but if I’m not a victim, then who is? This is my story, my experience. My feelings are valid, even though they make me feel small. Do I want to recover? I do, but how? This life feels like it wasn’t made for me, like it’s just a platform for others to use and move on from. My weaknesses have caused so much sorrow that it’s starting to feel like I might as well be gone. I miss my Stitch. He was so cute. Why did I have to hurt him?
