The abuser was the victim.

why is it so difficult to be loved? it's so easy to love someone. but why does it take so much just to have a little bit in return?

was it wrong to stand up for myself? did it give the family, and the whole world reason to hate me? did i have to keep quiet for the family to love me?

if you have a problem you can talk to me, the father said. when i did, he yelled at me, call me names. i knew it; because he once got irritated like hell just because i asked him to help with a cockroach in my room. what more if it's the teen drama? he'll never understand.

he thinks i love my aunt more just because she always gets me things which he can never afford. he thinks i'm cocky just because i'm taking O levels. he thinks the lower the EMB3, the worse it is.

he called me daughter from hell when he heard i had 11 for n levels. he called me idiot when i was getting the bursary award for my n levels. i will never forget that.

my patience has limits, the boyfriend said. he left when things were getting tougher for me. was that his limit; a bucket of my tears? was his being there for me measured by his patience and not by his love?

was crying a sign of immaturity? is someone's maturity dependent on her ability to control her tears?

believe it or not i'll never leave you again, he said. who was he kidding? o, right: me.

it'll get better, they said. you'll get over it, they said. i believed everyone.

they tell me to appreciate my parents. they tell me that i should love them while they're still here. well, that's what i have been doing. they're the ones who didn't give me the attention i needed. the mother was with the older brother; the father with the younger brother.

each time i run away to seek solace in my grandmother's arms, they come searching for me, to drag me back to this house. here, they neglect me again. what's the point of having me here if they're treating me as invisible?

why would you bring home an injured cat if you have no idea how to treat it?

i gave up fighting for the love from my parents. that took me years, and even then i did occasionally try again. i don't know when i'd give up fighting for this boy's, if i ever would.

i am the victim here. but then again, i am also the abuser. because i am still too weak to stand upon my own two feet...