It started when I was fourteen.
I was loved—or at least, I was shown something that looked like love. I didn't know the difference back then.
The only thing I truly witnessed was betrayal.
My mom…
I woke up.
The sunlight was too bright outside. It was 7 a.m., and I had to go to work. I hate mornings.
Well, not all mornings. I just hate summer mornings. Why? I don't know.
I actually love winter mornings. Looking outside with a hot cup of coffee in my hand, the air cold and quiet—yes, I love winter mornings.
But I prefer them alone. COMPLETELY ALONE!