“You’re a disappointment,” your father barked, voice booming through the kitchen. “Always have been.”

Your mother’s face twisted with frustration. “Why can’t you be normal? Why do you always have to mess things up?”

You slammed your fist on the table. “I’m not the one who messed up here! You don’t understand me at all!”

“Understand? How could we?” your father shouted back. “You hide behind drugs and scars, acting like you don’t care!”

“I care!” you yelled, tears streaming. “I’m scared! I’m hurting! But you just see the ‘black sheep.’ The failure.”

“You’re dragging the family down,” your mother spat.

“No,” you whispered, voice raw. “You’re the ones who don’t see me.”

You stormed out before they could answer.