I despise being the pity child.

The child they always foresee will fail.

The child with unending issues.

The child they're constantly concerned about.

The child they find irksome due to their high needs.

The child they feign kindness toward out of obligation.

The child they treat delicately, fearing fragility.

The child denied their true personhood.

The child perceived as a potential threat.

They murmur and grumble about this forced treatment, though I never sought it.

They never celebrate my victories because they anticipate my defeats.

I must remain flawless, as any misstep allows them to confine me further into that box.

Yet, no matter my efforts, I can't seem to change their perceptions.

It's challenging to grow and mend when you're branded as broken.

It's tough to believe I'll thrive when their faith remains absent.

I long to be treated like a normal human.

I yearn to be loved like any other.

I detest eternally embodying the "problem child" role.

I despise feeling like a ticking time bomb, ready to combust at any moment.

I despise the constant sensation of impending detonation.

And I detest the fact that without their imposed treatment, I would explode.

Because, in truth, they're correct.

I am a bomb.

Is that all I am?

A bomb?

I never chose this identity; it's simply how I came into the world.

Even if they defuse me, I'll still be a bomb.

I'll always be perceived as a bomb.

And I'll forever endure treatment as a bomb.

Even if I'm no longer ticking.
© AshMF