Not really, they loved my sister, she was always number one, could never do wrong.
I was just there, I don’t remember much affection, no hugs, no I love yous. Got mocked sometimes.
The time I liked a girl, told her. My parents found out told me she’d rang, but she hadn’t, it was just a way to make me hope, to talk.
My dad, when I was 10, heard him say I was a wimp, that I’d get wrecked in senior school. That made me cry.
Even after, when I was grown up, my boys came second, never had them overnight, never had them through the day.
Just shit really.
My therapist thinks my self esteem issues, my introversion, all stems from my parents not giving a shit about me.
But 40 now, what can I do? Be the best for my boys, not make the same mistakes. Too old to change, just wait out the years until I die. Not a wasted life, I have my boys. But not achieved what I should, I could.
Just these moments, Saturday night, sat in alone, sad. Too much time to think. Feel sorry for myself.
Pull my socks up my dad would say, pull yourself together. Not much to pull together I think.
Shit isn’t it?
