Some of my earliest memories are of rejection. I don’t recall a time in my life when I was fully accepted. What I don’t understand, however, is my inability to not care. You’d think after a lifetime of people thinking poorly of me and even being on guard for the inevitable, my emotions would scab over.

I want to be needed by someone. To be liked if I can’t be loved. To at least be tolerated if not cherished. To be wondered about if I fell off the earth. My body is too thick, however, and my mind too dense.