Love-Intolerant

I have a good life compared to most people in the world.

There’s food to eat every day. I have a solid roof over my head. I’m getting a great education, my life isn’t torn apart by natural disaster or poverty, and I’m not being enslaved by a dominating government.

There are people with real reasons to feel the way I do. Me? I have no good reason. I went into fifth grade feeling wanted and worthy of love, and I left feeling just the opposite. It kind of got worse every year, and now here I am. Love me all you want, but I’ll always feel hated. Maybe it would be best if everyone could give up loving me until I’ve got this sorted out. I’m not ungrateful. I just can’t process it.

It’s like being lactose intolerant, sort of. I want dairy so badly, but I lack the enzyme necessary to break down lactose. I can’t digest it properly. I’m the same way with love. I want it so much, more than anything else in the world. I long to be accepted and wanted, but I can’t take it.

This is the time where it comes down to who really cares, and who’s just faking it. I’m not even sure I can tell anymore.

 

 

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