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.

Trust. That was what this was all about. If you can't trust the one you love, you don't have anything.

I got singled out. I don't know why. Why do people always target me? Is it because I'm short and they figure I can't fight back? They're right, I can't, but it's not because I'm vertically challenged.

I hated him. I hated them all. They made me hate myself even more than I already did.

Cut the ending. Revise the script. The man of her dreams is a girl.

She's still doing it, pushing me into situations I can't handle, making me cope. She knows I can't cope.

I throw him two bones: a smile and a nod. Both lies.