A real person

Usually I feel like I am not a "real person." Everyone else has money, a house, paid bills, vacations, trips, "things," clothes, enough food, and more. I don't. I don't see myself as ever having those things because those good things are for "them" and all the shit is for me.

I must have been two or three one Christmas when under the Christmas tree was the most wonderful teddy bear I had ever seen. He was on my side of the tree, but I looked at all my other presents and didn't touch the bear. My mother asked if I saw it and I answered that I knew that it was for Bryan. It turned out that it was for me. Even at that very very young age I had been trained to think that anything good must belong to someone else. I am still that way today.