No one

What was always saddest to me is that there was no one to talk to. I was convinced that I was the worst kid there ever was, mostly because I was told daily that it was so. I never could talk about it, because the only people in my world seemed to have bought into it as my mother put it out – my dad, my sisters and brothers – all seemed part of it – they never really stood up against it.

Maybe it was true – she was right.

That’s how I entered adolescence – convinced that I was the only one who ever thought about me as other than good-for-nothing-bawn-liah-who-will-turn-out-just-like-my-fathah-and-brothah.