There was this story I told myself.  About how maybe it was okay my family kicked me out.  That they chose my brother over me.  That I was made to feel so unlovable. Because I had found community elsewhere.

And now that community is gone. And there's just me. And maybe I will always be unlovable.

Maybe my therapist is not over reacting. Maybe she sees something I don't. If I had the money,  I would go into a hospital.