I'm a year older now. My mother decided to tell me the story of how I came to be.
Her best friend had cancer. And the day he passed away (May 2nd, to be exact), he told my mom that God would send her a blessing, a gift for taking care of him in his time of need. And behold, exactly nine months later... I was born.
Fuck. I feel like crap now. I was a curse... And my mother swears I was her miracle baby. She doesn't even regret my existance. She loves me in a way that goes beyond unconditional love. And now... I can honestly say I've never hated myself more.
I feel guilty. My mother never deserved to be put through all the things I've done. And my father... And my friends. Wow. I'm terrible. What a sorry excuse for a human being I am.
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