The fact is, the man who’d begotten me didn’t want me. In his eyes I should never have been born. And perhaps that would’ve been best. As it was, my existence had proven to be nothing more than a nuisance for everyone. I angered my father, brought strife upon my mother, irritated my teachers, and annoyed the other children who were forced to interact with me in school. All by simply being. 	When you aren’t loved, you aren’t real. Life is cold, like the stone against my palm.
Richelle E. Goodrich, Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher
abuse, annabelle, child-abuse, richelle, richelle-goodrich, unloved, unwanted