(This is MY side of how I feel about this situation. Please do not argue with me or talk down on me for what I say.)

I got told that when you are little, barely even born to figure out the world, you body recognizes your parents touch… it recognizes when it never touches it. Your body remembers that pain, and that hurt. Now I know this doesn’t make a lot of sense because for a lot of you… you have your birth parents. You had that first touch, that first “I’ll never let anything bad happen to you” kiss from your mom. For me… I was adopted.

My birth mom knew the moment I was in her stomach, that she didn’t/couldn’t have me. So for 9 months I was a burden to her. I was just a reminder of something that happened to her that she could take back but can’t. She didn’t abort me which means she had a little bit of a soul/heart in her. But for 9 months I was the one thing she didn’t want.

Growing up every year on my birthday all I wanted was to have my birth parents call me and explain why they did what they did to me. But I never got it. Growing up I never really got held by my adoptive mother, who did have a lot of health problems but she was more of a hard love type mother less hug and kisses mother. So you can see how that can fuck up a child when she becomes an adult and don’t know how to take hugs n kisses. My sister was 9 years older than me and didn’t really like me once i started talking I guess, she always made me feel unwanted and every time I tried to show how much I loved her and wanted to be with her, she pushed me away. I don’t have those great bonding moments with her like everyone else does with their siblings. I think it’s because we aren’t blood related. Growing up where my room was my escape and my stuffed animals were my only friends, I learned at a young age that I wasn’t really welcomed in this messed up world.

I fight every day to fight the urge to just give up living, but I realize that one day… I’m going to give up; and no one will really care.