Hurt? I’ve known hurt before. The first time I experienced real hurt was when I realized that I had to earn my father’s love.
Disappointment? I've also known that.
I knew for the first time when it hit me that nothing I did was ever going to be enough. The first taste of disappointment was when I was eight. I had come home with my result in hand, excited to show my father, and he just took one look at it and asked why I didn't score the full mark.
Acceptance? Yeah, I felt that when I woke up one morning and realized that my father wasn't raising a son, but a successor. So I accepted it and learned never to beg for his love again.
But now? What I was feeling right now had no name or explanation. What I was feeling right now was unknown to me, and I couldn't identify it. All I knew was
