Yesterday, my brother said to me…

“There are two people in you; the one I like and the one I don’t like.”

I chose not to comment because in my family we don’t talk about our feelings, lo, I have this blog.

The thing with my brother’s comment is the fact that the person he likes is the girl before depression, before the shitty circumstances, before the hurt and hate; and the one he doesn’t like is the girl now. The girl who lives with depression, who realized how fucked up her family was and who realized she didn’t need to win her family’s approval. The one who realized she would always be alone.

I can’t tell him this, we don’t talk about our feelings. He thinks the one he likes is the true me and the one he doesn’t is the mask me, the fake me. The one I wear as a shield. It’s disappointing the fact he is slightly right, this is the “fake” me for the “real” me is much worse.

I’m sorry I’m not easy to love. I’m sorry I was went wrong. But it wasn’t my fault. You all did this to me.

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