𝑰 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒏 ✍🏽

CHAPTER ONE

𝓑𝓮𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓘 𝓚𝓷𝓮𝔀 𝓜𝔂 𝓞𝔀𝓷 𝓢𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂

I was only two months old when my mother left me.

At least, that is what I was told as I grew older.

I was too young to remember the moment she walked away. I don't remember her face disappearing. I don't remember crying for her. I don't remember wondering where she had gone.

Have you ever carried the weight of something you were too young to understand?

But somehow, even when you don't remember the beginning of a wound, you can still grow up feeling it.

I was raised by my grandmother in Mpumalanga. While I was growing up with her, my father was away in Johannesburg for work.

My grandmother became the person who was there for me. She was part of my everyday life—the person who watched over me, cared for me, and helped raise me while my father was away trying to make a living.

I didn't fully understand any of this when I was little. I only knew that my life was different.

From a young age, I had to become mature earlier than I should have.

While other children were simply learning how to be children, I was learning how to understand people, how to deal with things I couldn't always explain, and how to keep going even when I didn't feel strong.

The Girl Who Felt Left Out

As I got older, I began to understand that being different could make you a target.

Primary school was supposed to be a place where I made friends, learned new things, and discovered who I was. Instead, it became one of the places where I first learned what it felt like to be rejected.

I was bullied.

Sometimes it was the words people said. Sometimes it was the way they treated me. And sometimes, it was simply the feeling of being surrounded by people while still feeling completely alone.

I often felt like the left-out child.

I would look around and see other children laughing, playing, and belonging to their own groups. I wanted that too. I wanted to feel chosen. I wanted to feel like I mattered.

But I didn't always know how to find my place.

So I started becoming quieter.

I learned to keep certain feelings to myself. I learned how to smile even when something hurt. And little by little, I started wondering whether there was something wrong with me.

Looking back now, I realize there was never anything wrong with me.

I was just a child trying to find her place in a world that had already asked her to grow up too soon.

When I Went to Boarding School

Then I went to boarding school.

For a while, something changed.

I had motivation. I had dreams. I had a spark inside me that made me believe I could become something more.

I thought maybe this was my chance to become a better version of myself.

Boarding school was different from what I was used to. I was away from home and had to learn how to deal with different people and different situations.

But even though I was away from home, I still carried everything I had experienced before.

The bullying.

Feeling left out.

Growing up too fast.

All of it came with me.

Still, I tried my best.

I wanted to do well. I wanted my life to mean something.

But as time went on, things started happening that I wasn't prepared for.

I started seeing the world differently.

Some experiences changed me. Some people changed me. And slowly, the girl who was once so motivated started losing that spark.

I didn't notice it happening at first.

I just knew that I wasn't the same anymore.

Eventually, I changed schools.

And something strange happened.

People started noticing me.

For once, I wasn't the girl everyone ignored.

But being noticed didn't mean that I felt understood.

Sometimes, I still felt alone.

And I started realizing that changing schools doesn't always mean leaving your past behind.

Sometimes, you carry it with you.

Looking back now, I realize that every cruel word, every rejection, and every lonely moment left a mark on me.

I began to believe that maybe I wasn't worth choosing.

Maybe I wasn't enough.

But there was still something inside me that refused to completely disappear.

I was hurt.

I was confused.

I felt alone.

But I was still there.

And maybe I didn't know it yet, but the girl who felt left out was going to become a girl who would have to fight to find herself again.

This is not the end of my story.

This is only the introduction.

📖 POLL

Have you ever felt like you had to grow up too soon?

❤️ Yes, I have

💔 More than people know

🥺 I'm still trying

🌱 I'm figuring it out