He left, and I was sure it meant I was completely unlovable.
She trashed my locker at school and then watched with her new friends, laughing hysterically. I fought back tears. I was clearly not lovable.
My mom kicked me out of the house at 17—and that sort of sealed the deal on my unlovability.
I could keep going, but I’ll stop there.
I don’t want to totally depress you because there’s a beautiful ending to this tragic beginning. Over the years, I had amassed plenty of evidence to indicate that not only was I not worthy of love, I was even, possibly, totally unlovable.
And so, it became my mission to sort it all out.
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