I don’t know why I’m around sometimes.
Everyone seems to have something to say around the table.
The yalways seem to know the thing to say back when someone makes a comment.
I’m usually busy making sure my knife and fork don’t hit the plate and bring attention to me.
“You’re quiet today, what’s wrong?”
I don’t know what’s wrong that’s why.
I don’t fit in.
I’m too awkward to save myself socially.
“Nothing. I’m alright.”
Mum seems to love them all just the same.
I don’t know what she thinks of me.
She remembers to say my name whenever my siblings are doing something and ‘forgot’ about me.
My sister, loves her attention.
Shopping, only girls’ day out, talking into the night, painting their toes.
I don’t know when I last spoke to my mother.
I might be afraid of establishing any attachment by seeking her love.
“You know, mum loves you more than she loves the rest of us.”
“I’m sure it’s easy when I blend into the walls than make myself seen”
“No, she loves you more because you don’t give her trouble. She says, you’re the best of the bunch. I envy you.”
I’m loved the most?