"What's wrong with me?" My whole life I've been thinking that. I know I've never been like everyone else. But I don't know why.
Every single morning, I stare at myself in the mirror and practice my smile. I practice my laugh. I practice my speech. That's the worst thing, the way I speak. I've been told I sound off and weird, so I try to imitate how they talk.
That's the only way I get to have attention. Is that one of my strange traits? Wanting attention? Does nobody else need that like I do? Maybe my parents not having time for me is completely normal. Maybe I'm just needy.
It feels terrible, but I guess I'm just being selfish when I wait outside their bedroom door to show them a drawing I made. And surely it's a flaw of mine to want them to drive me to school instead of making me walk 3 miles every day.
I know it's not their fault. They have work, and other responsibilities like taking care of the apartment and themselves. But sometimes I wonder why they decided to have me in the first place.
Do they love me like I love them? Actually, that's a stupid question. Everyone's parents love them. Mine just show it differently. I like to think they're using all their time now to treat me to a surprise when I'm older, and that everything will be nice and happy then.
For now, I seek that support from other kids at school, but even then I still feel discontent. The only thing that truly comforts me is drawing. Sometimes it's portraits, and sometimes it's scenery.
When I'm lazy, I leave a page blank, and title it "my ceiling," which is kind of an inside gag for me since I spend a lot of my time just staring at my ceiling and thinking. Thinking a lot. Mostly, "what's wrong with me?"
YOU ARE READING
To Nowhere
Novela JuvenilThey were your normal teen friend group, laughing about their childish dreams and pretending their home lives weren't shitty. When North Korean defectors, Iseul and Minjun, moved to their neighborhood in Santee, California, it leads them to discover...
