I learned from a young age that the world wasn’t black and white. There were so many different shades of grey, that the line between imagination and reality was blurred. Sometimes I questioned if that line existed at all, almost to the same degree that I questioned my father’s abandonment. How could someone who claimed to love me with the entirety of his being, leave me?

During a short period of my life, I realized that his promises meant nothing and rules were meant to be broken. As a child, this newfound awareness was heart-breaking. I had lived my life in accordance with the laws set by my father and yet he had broken them himself.

His desertion was the ultimate betrayal. The mixed emotions I felt confused my moral compass. I could no longer differentiate between right and wrong. My method of thinking became distorted. I believed that if my father had previously deemed an act good, then that same act was actually bad because his words were poisoned by his treachery. As a result, I entered my rebellious phase, one which I will never grow out of according to my eldest brothers.

The phase itself wasn’t the problem- everyone must endure the awkward adolescent years of life. It was the energy and effort I put into being disagreeable. I questioned everything I was ever taught, just to spite everyone around me. I no longer tried to create connections between the importance of some regulations and the dangers of breaking them. Especially because the one being who would discipline me, was absent.

Sometimes I even broke sacred rules in hopes of gathering his wrath. At least he would come back to punish me. His anger was better than nothing. I had been desperate and afraid of being alone. Even surrounded by all my siblings, I had never felt as isolated as I did then. They were all hopeful of his return and I alone was resigned to the reality of the situation. The one being unable to forsake anyone had disowned us. We were the forsaken ones.

This soul-shattering discovery would be the problem to cement my rebellious phase. Through the realization of our rejected status, I discovered hatred and the surge of power which came with this fiery sensation. Hate became a new emotion to my arsenal. I was slowly consumed by the burning sensation that replaced the chill of loneliness. Not wanting to relapse into helplessness, I began to hate with vengeance.