The title reminds me of a period where i was not as happy and excited about life as i am now.
For reasons i still cannot comprehend, i appreciated life anyway. I love people, kind, mean and even scary. i was bullied constantly for trying to be invisible i suppose and being quiet and of course, well behaved. I was so tuned into everyone else’s emotions, i was able to speak and smile on queue, parents loved me and children hated me. I had one friend and felt betrayed each time she left my side, because a bully would await to pull my long hair just because they could. I never fought back or even tried to defend myself. We then moved to house where i was raised from the tender age of 8, where i felt even lonelier.
I moved away from the only friend i had and the only person i knew how to trust. Not that the previous home brought too much happiness. A not so emotionally available mom, a strict yet loving grandmother who lacked in the same way my mother did me. I now understand why grandparents love their grand children more than their own children or at least that’s what my grandmother always told me. Back then, kids never had much freedom to express emotions as it was inconsiderate and disrespectful to others. It was sort of an unspoken rule, a stare would be more than enough to serve as a warning. Sexual abuse was the monster who became my nightmare and later my best friend and turned my whole world upside down. Not realizing the chaos that would follow me for most of my life.