If one is the worst, then I guess my childhood was a minus-one. I was born to ignorant, poverty-stricken parents who were unloving and self-centred. The little bit of love they felt was bestowed on my two gifted brothers, very difficult acts to follow. As a result, all my efforts and accomplishments - I had an I.Q. of 154 and was excellent in English and math - but it was never enough for them. Here's an example: I skipped Grade 6 and managed to come second in Grade 7. So what do they tell me? "It would have been nice if you had finished first." Very cruel, very hurtful. And even today, I haven't totally overcome the need to prove my excellence to my deceased parents. Mind you, after I grew up and was making a big salary, they couldn't stop telling me how much they were impressed. My brothers, incidentally, are also dead: One by a prescription-drug overdose, the other by alcohol poisoning. I don't dwell on the past, but when I DO think about my childhood, it brings tears to my eyes and my heart. Sorry for putting a damper on an otherwise happy topic.
2007-11-08 12:15:25
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answer #1
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answered by FRANsuFU 3
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2007-11-08 11:54:21
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answer #2
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answered by Watsit 5
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2007-11-08 11:54:49
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answer #3
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answered by shy_bell80 6
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2007-11-08 11:53:46
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answer #4
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answered by dicovi 5
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2007-11-08 11:53:28
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answer #5
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answered by bookmama 5
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2007-11-08 11:54:06
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answer #6
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answered by Anonymous
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2007-11-08 11:55:22
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answer #7
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answered by ?only?me? 6
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2007-11-08 11:53:59
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answer #8
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answered by Anonymous
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2007-11-08 11:53:32
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answer #9
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answered by Anonymous
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2007-11-08 11:53:13
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answer #10
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answered by FrozenFlowers 6
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