When It Doesn’t Go Away

When you’re five, there isn’t a single word in your world that can explain why leaving your bed makes you so unhappy. And how was I or my Dad supposed to know that at seven, being told that you’ve done something minutely wrong will live in your head for the next 4 months straight? At the forgotten age of nine, I just assumed that happiness wasn’t a feeling that was meant to be felt often. At twelve, my parents finally started to worry about why I made so many best friends just to end up losing them all. When I finally found the word I was always looking for, I was already sixteen. After months of begging my…