(A/N: This is just the prologue. It's not that important to the story, but you can read it if you want to… or skip it.
I mean, who really listens to the author anyway??)
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I regret the day I was born!
I grew up in a house where people would rather eat dog shit than say my name.
Sometimes, their silence felt like mercy, because when they spoke, their words hurt in ways I couldn't even explain.
Love wasn't missing in the family… It was never just meant for me.
Do you know what it feels like to sit at a table full of people and still not be seen?
Well, yeah! That was me growing up.
I wasn't the talented one, and I wasn't smart either. I was something worse— irrelevant.
In my family, your worth is measured in results, by what you've achieved. And you can guess… I had none.
Everytime I'm compared, something in me changes.
"Why can't you be like—" Yeah. I heard it so many times till those words stopped hurting me. They became… just words.
Eventually, I stopped trying. Because tell me, what's the point of trying to be someone when no one wants you around?
I haven't always been against birthdays because they reminded me that I am one year closer to dying.. I thought that was a good thing because I would finally be at peace.
Every year, I'd wake up feeling ecstatic, realizing I was a year closer to being free.
But my 21st birthday was different. It broke me totally.
My Father has always preferred and loved my twin brother over me. And I kept on trying to prove I also deserved his love…till I stopped trying.
I thought I was strong. Like I had finally grown this thick skin that nothing could pierce.
Jokes on me… It turns out that I just hadn't been hit with a big enough sledgehammer yet.