Chapter 9

Loneliness, for many, is synonymous of emptiness, the dark, of a deadly silence, where there is nothing and no one. The loneliness for many is unpleasant, cold, suffocating, but not in my case, the loneliness for me, brought me comfort, peace where for many it would be a storm. But why? Do I think like this? When did this start? I have no answer, but I know something that is related. Should love be a choice? Should a mother's love be a choice? If a mother wanted her child, carried it for nine months and still loves it, why did mine choose not to love me, but to erase me from her life, simply discarding me, like garbage which could be thrown into a shredder and nobody would miss me, maybe I should be angry, but no, these people would not have any kind of feeling from me, I would never give this taste, the marks on my body? I am constantly reminded of this already, every moment reminding me that I am a monster, reminding me that those who should love me, have simply turned me into a frea