To Be Different

Chapter 14.

Once upon a time, I was a carefree.

I didn't care what anyone said about me, the only thing I cared about were my thoughts.

I was the one that told myself that I was ugly and no one wanted me.

I was the one that hated mirrors because I hated my reflection.

I was also the one that had little hope that I was at least a better person.

That I was incapable of being loved just like everyone else.

And then Paul comes into my life giving me all the hope in the World that I wasn't different.

That his imperfections suited mine.

Realising that I was just Jessica, I cry softly to myself.

I'm the girl that had no friends. I was the girl that no one spoke to in school.

I was the girl that got rejected by her own mother.

I was just that girl.

Instead of going home, I make a U-turn to the lady I once met at the hospital days ago.

She said she would help me, she said she would make me feel better.

To my luck, I find her in her office. She hides her surprise when she sees me.

"Hi... Will this take long?" I ask immediately.

She smiles at me. "I thought you'd never come. I have been waiting for you."

Yeah that.

I take a seat in front of her. She's a phycologist. She knows how to help me.

"How have you been feeling?" She asks.

I roll my eyes. "I'm not okay obviously."

Her smile remains glued on her face despite my attitude.

"Feel free to tell me about everything!"

I'm a bit uncomfortable to talk to her but when everything in life doesn't go your way, what other choice do you have?

"Do you think I'm like everyone else? Am I different?"

"We're all created the same but different from each other. Why do you ask?"

I rub my forehead frustrated. "I mean, do I look like the other kids at all?"

I'm almost crying. The more I question myself, the more inferior I felt.

"Jessica.. What's wrong? Tell me everything my dear!"

She's so collected and emotionless. I don't know if she's even doing her job at all.

I thought those people were supposed to sympathize with the patient.

I'm the patient and all I was receiving, where innumerous useless questions.

"Everything is wrong!" I tell her. "I didn't grow up with my mom like the other kids. Their lives are perfectly normal because they had mother's. Everyone likes them because they had a mother! But no one likes me because I don't have my mother."

I tell her, feeling my tears resume. The more I mention her, the more emotional I felt.

She was the reason every bad thing was happening in my life.

"Where is your mother?" She asks.

I stare at her in misbelief. "I don't care about where she is. You're only supposed to tell me if I will be okay."