At first, whenever you spoke to me, I couldn't help but feel sad—because you were right. I'm not good enough. Everyone seems better. What could I possibly do to be enough for you?
Every day, I cry. I shrink myself smaller, weaker, less than those around me. I haven't achieved what people my age have. I tried my best. But every day, you carve my flaws deeper into my skin. Slowly, this sadness turned to anger.
I wake up hoping for change, thinking maybe today I'll be better. But you always find a way to bury me—insult upon insult—never letting me rise. And when I fight back? Suddenly, I'm "disrespectful." What do you want from me? I don't even care for an answer anymore. All that's left in my heart is HATE.
Why? Why? Why?
Why do you make me hate you so?
Can't you see I'm suffering?
Can't you see my pain?
Why won't you notice?
I'm tired. All I can do now is hate you