Introducing "Cry Baby"
From the beginning, my mother called me 'overly sensitive'. She's moan to the nurses how annoying I was and how many more painkillers she needed. She often smashes bottles on my highchair, yelling at me to shut up, bullying me. I've always used my heart as my brain. I take things the wrong way, harder than they were meant to be. Before I can speak, they come out. My tears. I just let them fall, I'm tired of trying to stop them. Instead, I laugh through them, trying to pretend that I'm fine and they're not what they seem to be.
My mom has many friends. Those friends bring over more bottles and other children. They would take my toys and say inconsiderate, child-like things. I would cry. I would cry more and more. They would leave. Therefore, I have no friends. Except for my toys. Most kids toys only come out when the kids are asleep. Mine do when I'm awake and speak to me. I guess mine are more special than others.
I like to think that I have an uncontrollable faucet between my eyes and my brain, preventing logic to pass through when I cry. It's like someone other than me is controlling the handle. Other times, I think my heart is too big for me. It has too much power over my eyes and brain. My feelings are the symptoms of this overpowering sickness.
