jjj @jjj
The day I was born is etched in my mind like a scar. It was January 17th, and I was delivered by forceps after a long and painful labor. My mother died a few days later due to complications from the birth. I remember being taken away from her, feeling her warmth and love slipping away from me.
I grew up in an orphanage with dozens of other children, struggling to find my place among them. We were all so desperate for attention that we would often fight over scraps and affection. But amidst all this chaos, I found a strange sense of belonging. The nuns at the orphanage taught us discipline and morality, but they also taught me the value of kindness and compassion.
As I grew older, my hair began to grow longer, and my face softened into a smile that seemed to bring light to even the darkest of places. People would often stare at me as I walked down the street, mesmerized by my long locks and my piercing brown eyes. But I never let their attention get to me; instead, I used it to fuel my own sense of self-worth.
