Neglected
All through my life, I’ve generally feel like an outcast. Whether it’s with my family, my companions, or my schoolmates, I’ve frequently felt as I didn’t exactly fit in. A subtle sensation washes over me as the moon rose, gently reminding me of my solitude. It breaks my heart to have to go through such feelings. My way of coping was to shed a few tears every night. I might be perceived by some as someone who enjoys telling stories and being animated in my expression.
But the truth is that I have trouble communicating with other people. Even though it wasn’t my best link, that doesn’t mean people shouldn’t dislike me, right? It’s a piece humiliating to admit, yet I tend to be an accommodating person. I’m always worried about how other people see me, how they feel when I’m around them, and what they might say behind my back. I’ve always wanted to be enough. It became abundantly clear when I was a young child that my family wasn’t exactly devoted. Whenever I achieved something, all they would do is snap a fast photograph and consider it done. No congratulations or expressions of pride were made. Do I matter?
As I wandered into the universe of Instagram, I coincidentally found a sight that left me feeling slightly baffled. Despite the fact that it appeared as though my so-called “friends” were enjoying each other’s company, I found that I was not…
