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“I’m Not Supposed to Be Here!”

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Standing alone, I look around me. I see walking hand in hand, a couple, so young and in love. An elderly couple, I think to myself, “Wow! Still together throughout all these years!” A family, whom loves their children which is seen clearly in their eyes from where I stand. Driving in my car, I pass homes often wondering what that family is like living in that home? I stop and say, “I’m not supposed to be here!”

Feeling this way, I have not felt I belonged anywhere. No siblings. No childhood friends. No life. And most of all I can count on both hands my fondest memories. How could a mother not have unconditional love for her children? How is unconditional love learned? How does one learn love? How does one learn to love self before loving another? Or how can we love another and not ourselves?

I’m in the category of being able to love another and not myself, feeling unconditional love for those few, and not feel self-love. When you are raised by a mother whom is unforgiving and cold. Cringing at the touch of a small child’s hug and kiss goodnight. A father whom wasn’t around. Except for the one whom the mother has a long-term relationship with, whose last name you are given physically abused you for many years. Praying to a God that never heard me, my cries, and wanting to take my soul during the night while I slept. Yet, forty-three, I am still here. I don’t believe in God. How could He have let me suffer? Why didn’t He answer my prayers? How could He allow an innocent child go through what I went through?

It’s been said that our souls pick our parents. I would not have picked mine. I didn’t ask to be here. Why am I here? What purpose in life do I have? I have known people and during an era where death was an end result I seemed to have missed. I have a tendency to flirt with death. Yet I still walk and breathe. I cry out, “I’m not supposed to be here!”

Only no one is around to hear.

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