People often question me whenever they hear my story.  

Even before they hear it, but rather than question me, they  

assume. Listen, hear me out, I know, not everyone makes  

assumptions, but it feels that way. Questions are thrown  

at me like an arrow shooting through the air, they strike  

me in the heart and make it difficult for that fake smile to  

stay plastered on my face, As if some-one had sewn the  

corners of my mouth up into a smile. So forced, their pity  

and kindness, I mean. Listen to me, hear me out. Not  

everyone questions, not everyone assumes, but the  

second I tell them of my tragic past it’s all asking and no  

listening. 

 

My friends and family have often asked me why I always  

keep things to myself. I'd rather not bother people with  

my problems. When it comes to having divorced parents,  

Life just doesn’t come easy, especially if the man you called  

your father for most of your life up and leaves, right after  

promising he wouldn’t, after promising he would always  

be there for you, Isn't it hard? Having to go through that?  

Listen to me, and I mean really listen. There's a saying;  

“sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can’t  

hurt me.” you know who said that? An idiot. Words hurt.  

They hurt like hell. People say; “your actions are what  

define you.” and I completely agree with them. You are  

what you make of yourself.