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.