As a kid, no one cared about me. The other kids tore into me every chance they got. The adults didn’t care either—they barely acknowledged me, treating me like I was just another problem to ignore. There was no love, no comfort—just cold walls and empty spaces where I lived for 4 years until I was 9 when I was adopted. I never had a friend, never felt like I belonged. All I wanted was someone to see me, to care, but that was never going to happen. The bullying kept coming, and the loneliness never went away. And still, I’m entitled to want someone out there to care for me. After everything I’ve been through—being invisible, alone, abandoned—why wouldn’t I want someone to acknowledge my pain, to show that I matter, even just for a moment? It’s not too much to ask. After all the neglect, the bullying, the emptiness, I deserve some kind of comfort. I don’t think that makes me entitled. I just want to feel human, like I’m not just another forgotten face in a crowd. But it never comes.
