... ... I just got slapped twice by my father. Hard.

... ... I just got chased out by my father. For the second time.

I am not concerned with the fact that it was the first time he slapped me. Neither am I bothered with the fact that he finds me annoying every time I called him.

Never mind that my mother thought I was 22 years old. Doesn't matter she has a private HP line that she does not want me to know.

I simply don't care. I just know one thing's for sure. I am unwanted. Unowned. Forbidden.

I shouldn't have been a fool. Believing this will all change one day. Wishing that we can revive happy days and be a nice family of four.

For dreaming about it, I got punished. Harshly.

My father shouted at me this: "Who am I to you?" He is my father.

But when am I ever his daughter? I never was, never is, never will. Because, he doesn't love me.

Who he actually dotes on and loves, is, his son, my brother.

I was slapped because I shouted at my brother for messing up my room and tearing up gifts I am supposed to pass to my friends.

For that, I slapped myself again. As an apology. Boy, how satisfied he appeared.

I will never forget this. I shall not let go such a memory of how much exactly I am so not welcomed in this family. How strongly I fought for nothing but hatred.

Who will know? How hurt and upset I am. I am just a nobody in anyone's world.

I don't care. I just don't care. Not when the pain is still mounting, and the coldness escalating.