I was the black sheep of my family. From the beginning, I was the odd one. On holidays I would go off on my own, losing myself in my books.
I often had opinions that differed from the rest of my family and was told why I was wrong. I couldn’t seem to do anything right.
I was the sensitive one, I “overreacted” to things and I was wrong to think I should be treated well. When my siblings bullied me, I was blamed.
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