One was a boy my age, his brown hair quite messy in comparison to the styled hairdos of everyone around him, wearing an I Heart NY shirt. He caught my eye and then looked away.
As I gazed at Ava’s family standing around her cot, speaking to her, comforting her, just being there for her, I longed desperately for something like that. For a real family. All I got was a bothersome aunt and her annoying baby, and a pair of parents I barely got to see twice a year.... Ava got to have a family that loved her, a little brother who looked up to her, without the constraint of an irritating and infuriating substitute for parents. In that moment, I could feel fury rising deep inside me. The feeling of hatred, of envy, of longing, burned like acid in my stomach. I didn’t like the way it felt, but it was right. Maybe I seemed like a happy, carefree teen without the limits of ever-present parents, but sometimes I did feel lonely. Even with friends, even with fun, even with everything I had, I always ended up feeling like I was missing something. This was it.