I slammed the trunk of my car closed. I was leaving, and there was nothing my parents could do about it. I had waited to long to get away from them. They never really cared about me. Sure they fed me, clothed me, and kept a roof over my head, but never once in my lifetime had they shown me any type of love or affection. They were always telling me how worthless and useless I was.
No one will ever have you.
I could hear my mother’s voice clear as day.
You’ll never amount to anything.
My father would always tell me.
I would believe these lies, but I always felt as if something was off about everything they said to me. I felt as if my existence was one of a greater purpose, but every time I would try to explain this to my parents they would tell me I was stupid for having such goals and ambitions.
Although they never physically abused me, the mental abuse I received from my parents on a daily basis was enough to make me forget my dreams and stay locked away in my home. I never really had any friends. I never went anywhere until now. Until I met him.
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