School had gotten better now that I was in a whole new place. I had found some kids I could chat with and a few teachers I clicked well with.

Home, well that was a different story. I had slowly gotten more aggressive and the problems I was causing my mother were growing by the day. My sisters were done with me and my crap at this point and we could hardly be in the same room for five minutes without a fight irrupting.

I could hardly stand myself at this point to be honest. I was never happy and everything was the worst thing ever. I wasn’t even really sure why but that seemed to be normal when it came to my thoughts and feelings. I could never put my finger on the why.

I would find myself lashing out more and more. Just doing and saying awful things to my sisters and my mom. At this point I was my sisters biggest bully and I wore it proudly. I knew deep inside that what I was doing was terrible and that I had others do it to me so I knew damn well how she felt, it must have been worse though seeing I was her blood.

The people around me couldn’t understand why I would go out of my way to torment people that loved me, you see I could never make the adults around me understand that I didn’t feel the love everyone claimed was there. I had a really hard time believing the words “I love you” no matter who they came from or how often.

When you say things like this people just assume your being mean or dramatic they don’t understand that sometimes things that come naturally to some people don’t always come naturally to others and this lack of understanding fueled so much of my self hatred and rage for a long time.

“The most terrible poverty is loneliness, and the feeling of being unloved.” -Mother Teresa