Black sheep

Black sheep of the family. Some think its them, but let me tell you. If your family has always saved you a place and they want you around, its not you. How can you think you’re on the outside, when you’re there and they accept and remember you?

Even before we lost the linchpin, we weren’t given a seat at your tables. I regret saving any of you a seat at mine. I wish we’d realized sooner that we deserved more than twisting ourselves into shapes you’d all accept, love, and approve of. It’s become clear that we’ll never be enough. We should’ve never had to fight for our place.

Must’ve been some prenatal blood thinners while in the womb, cause it seems we’re sporting a lower viscosity. We’re just water, water under the bridge. Forgotten with the current, like we’ve always been. I’m washing my hands with it. I’m all set, because I no longer desire a seat at your tables. I know who counts us as their own.

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