What's the point of living if you don't belong anywhere?
I hated him. I hated them all. They made me hate myself even more than I already did.
I hope they remember the good stuff, when I was a baby, a toddler, when they still had hopes and dreams for their little girl, their miracle child. In truth they were good to me. They were only doing what they knew how to do; what they thought was best.
Like anyone cared where I was, or who I was.
Why couldn't I have a fatal disease? It'd be so much easier.
The sad truth is, they should never trust me.