eSPECIALly for you.

One weird thing about me is that when I'm sad, I write. I tend to be dramatic and a wuss. I barely cry so I hold on to all the tears wanting to fall, get myself together , get a piece of paper and write. Yes, you are right, at this very moment, I AM SAD. 

I'm not special. Growing up, I was forced to believe I was but in my heart I knew I was nothing but ordinary. I always try to act right. My cousins had these loving parents who always compared their kids to me. They say all the nice things, have all nice things and make sure I know it. My parents, on the other hand, was not that loving in terms of comparing me, they would always agree to my cousin's parents and I would be, well, Ordinary. 

In the years that passed, I became someone I'm not proud of. In high school, I was a mediocre student and by senior year, I met alcohol and started partying in the wee hours of the morning. College was worst. I drank too much, slept too late, wasted too much money and expected too much. 

By the time I graduated from college, my cousins were pregnant. I finished high school being part of the top ten, graduated college in four years being part of the first section while some of my friends still have subjects to go through. In my own right, I WAS SUCCESSFUL. I didn't bring any boys home ( not that there was any), I got good grades and never went home pregnant. I was proud of myself. To them, though, I'll always be ordinary despite the fact I don't ask for financial assistance from my sister because I have a stable job and despite the fact I pay for my parents healthcare.

I'm now 22, damaged and I always have that dream in my head ( you know, the stuff you make up that you wish would someday come true) that I could be a better individual if my own family never treated be ordinarily because I know after all that I've been through... geez, am I special.