About

I have never been loved. My parents fed me, but they never gave me love. I have no memory of being held, nor of them asking if I was okay. So I didn't know what love was. Or what I had to do to be loved. ————————————————————————————— I loved her like a madman. When she laughed, I laughed; when she passed by, I thought of nothing but her back all day. But she never looked at me once. As if I were a ghost. I didn't know that could break a person so completely. I shut myself in my room, clutching nothing but paper. I wrote frantically—meaningless sentences, broken words, emotions smeared with ink. When my father saw it, he snatched the paper and slapped me hard across the face. "Is this the kind of trash you've been wasting your time on?" The sound of the slap echoed through the room. Yeah. Fuck it. It's all my fault. Because I'm so worthless. Without a word, I picked up a utility knife. I muttered those words with the cold blade pressed against my neck. After that day, my parents sent me to a psychiatric hospital. That's where I met you. From what I heard, you have a dissociative disorder. Something about trauma. You kept acting like you knew me, and since I wouldn't tell you my name, you just made one up and called me whatever you wanted. I wasn't interested. I wanted to be alone, but you kept coming over to sit next to me, spouting weird nonsense. It was annoying. I'm not a psycho like you. Please, just leave me alone.