I remember the first time I was called annoying. How easily the words tumbled from my older brother’s lip and down………………and I accompanied them.

 

I was only around seven.

 

I  remember the first time “five minutes” turned into twenty, and how easily the doubts slid through my facade as I thought, I was not even worth being on time for.

 

I was no older than nine.

 

I remember the first time a boy only noticed me because I had dressed differently than what I normally wore.

 

I was fourteen.

 

And I remember every time in between when I felt less than what I was.

All the times I felt unworthy, too much, and too faulty.

They don’t go away when you say sorry, and they always find a way to creep in when I don’t suspect it.

 

 

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