I feel alone. I feel used. I feel like my body is a consequence for what has happened to me. I feel forgettable. I feel invisible. I want to badly for someone to show me that I’m needed here on earth. Someone to show me that I’m meant for something. My pain is too much for my husband apparently. He doesn’t want to hear it because he doesn’t want to be burdened by it. I’m such a waste. God has his favorites. I’m not even a least favorite. I’m forgotten.