July 19th, 2001, is when it all started. My mother was calm and collected as she went into natural labor, and claimed to have an extremely smooth delivery. 'You were an easy child from the day you were born', she repeatedly reminded me throughout my childhood, how easy I was to raise and look after. I was, in fact, the 'perfect daughter' I expressed love in ways my other siblings could not I kept my feelings to myself in order to make everyone around me happier than I was.
You see, I was born and raised somewhere I never considered my home. I lived a luxurious life with cars, drivers, prestigious private schools and weekly shopping, and to whoever considers that a 'life' you are completely mistaken.
A life isn't material or quality, it's love and happiness. Regardless of growing up having everything served to me on a silver platter, I had no sense of purpose. I was away from my family and my home, my parents were constantly occupied or busy forming the lives they envisioned for my three siblings and me... I was left alone, with my thoughts and feelings.
My parents raised me well enough to know that gratitude is an essential trait to possess in order to be happy. I've heard 'people have it worse' countless times whilst trying to express my feelings. When addressing your problems only leads to a repetitive lecture, you soon begin to give up...
This is my story.
YOU ARE READING
Barely Breathing.
Non-FictionA 17 year old artist, who has been through a series of unfortunate events throughout her short life. Being misunderstood and alone, I hope I can help someone with my experience with bullying, depression and anxiety... This is my story.
