She looks like she could have been happy in a better life

Once upon a time, there was a little girl.

There were many things wrong with this little girl, but she couldn't see what they were. She checked herself from head-to-toe, but on the outside she looked just like any other little girl. She sat in church and asked God what was wrong with her, or she sat in a tree and tried to just feel what could be wrong with her, or sometimes in class when she was done with her work, she would make lists, attempting to reason out what it was.

But there must be something wrong with me, she thought, because so many people tell me so. After all, what's more likely—that I'm right and they're wrong? There are so many of them, and I'm only a little girl who knows enough to know she doesn't know very much at all.

( tw: my childhood: physical/emotional abuse, neglect )