She became a ghost in her own life.
Moving, speaking, eating, sleeping—everything she did was mechanical.
She did not laugh.
She did not cry loudly.
She did not hope.
She existed, a quiet witness to a world that had never wanted her.
Her parents never said they were proud. They never saw her.
They continued their quiet neglect until it became as natural as breathing.
I do not belong anywhere, she thought.
Not to them.
Not to anyone.
Not to myself