My Ordinary 20 Years

 　　In January 1998, an ordinary mother became pregnant with her second child. During the prenatal checkup, the doctor relative didn't explicitly say whether the baby was a boy or a girl, but the parents, who were still unborn, already knew.

　　The preference for sons was still deeply ingrained in the older generation. While the whole family was making ample preparations for this "boy," on November 18th, a baby girl with a boy's name was born. Perhaps because they had prepared in advance, or perhaps because they had resigned themselves to their fate, the father, who was still bothered by the fact that his firstborn sister was a girl, doted on this newborn baby who weighed just over six pounds.

　　It's said that children from poor families are easier to raise, but I was weak and sickly from a young age. Even in third or fourth grade, I only weighed 30 pounds, my face was thin with prominent cheekbones and sunken eyes—in our local parlance, I looked "unremarkable." But fortunately, I was sweet-talking and perceptive, and well-liked by the neighbors. They would always give me a little something to eat.

　　I'm the youngest child in my family. Although my parents love me, they rarely spend time with me. After all, my arrival increases the household expenses, so they can't stay idle. After my grandfather passed away, my parents, worried about my grandmother being lonely, had me stay with her for three years.

　　I only returned to my parents after suffering carbon monoxide poisoning and spending a week in the hospital. By then, I was in junior high school.

　　Like most kids, I was rebellious. I got my ears pierced, dyed my hair, dated, smoked, and drank. Of course, my parents only knew part of it (what I thought), since I wasn't completely outrageous. More importantly, I became extremely concerned about how others perceived me. This mindset restrained me, preventing me from doing anything unethical, though it also made me somewhat insecure.

　　My mother, instead of enjoying my cuteness, endured a year of my unreasonable behavior. In my second year of junior high, I was moved by a speech. For the next two years, I studied without ambition, waking up at four o'clock every morning, with a week off, even studying at home. I eventually entered the top high school in our town.

　　Those two years in junior high were the most glorious days of my 20 years. My grades improved rapidly and remained excellent. My inferiority complex was temporarily hidden. Teachers and classmates liked me, and I actively participated in various activities... I was incredibly successful. It was also during this summer that I discovered cracks in my parents' relationship. My father often came home late at night, or sometimes didn't come home at all. My mother got so drunk that she almost died of alcohol poisoning. I will never forget the desperate cries of my mother when she was taken to the hospital.

　　Top-tier high schools are full of students who are both academically gifted and from wealthy families. This kind of environment was fatal for a child like me, who was inherently insecure and extremely concerned about others' opinions. During this time, I developed a bad habit: vanity! The discord among my roommates and my dislike for people who said one thing behind another's backs made my high school life almost unbearable. I tried to return to a state of mind free of ambition and desire, but I couldn't shake off the resentment and distractions in my heart. I desperately missed that time without desires. I drifted aimlessly through high school, ending up in a second-tier university.

　　My family situation worsened during my first year. My father showed no remorse; despite our already precarious circumstances, he would even use some of his money to support other people's children, and he no longer cared about me. I desperately wanted to know, where was my father? My mother became increasingly erratic, yet stubbornly refused to divorce me. It's terrifying how deeply ingrained feudalistic ideas are; they don't just bind one person, but an entire family. My father abandoned not just my mother, but the whole family.

　　And so, I was dragged deep into the mire. My university days were miserable. I was withdrawn, silent, and unable to communicate. I built a thick protective shell around myself, using silence to mask my flaws. I was afraid to talk to people, afraid they would see my dullness. And so, I turned 20.

　　I don't know how my story should continue, or if my future will ever be bright.