It felt weird to tell them that I needed a hug.
I needed kindness,
I needed someone to believe in me,
Someone to support me,
To listen to me.
Someone to hang out and be friends with.

I found some of these things outside home,.
But I was convinced that nothing could compare to home.
I even told them once,
“The way you treat me makes me feel like I’m adopted.
So just tell me which orphanage or dump—I used that exact word—
You got me from,
And take me back.
I won’t be upset.”

I packed a bag,
And was ready to go.
I wasn’t going to stay at home any longer.
They did not react.

I was lost.
I didn’t know if I should really leave.
Do they even care about me?
I’d tell my mother,
“I feel like you’re not my mother.”
And I’d tell my father,
“I feel like I have no father.”
My relationship with my siblings was next to nonexistent.
Literally nonexistent.

The decision I made,
Which I do not regret,
And which helped me process a lot of things,
Was to start provoking my parents.
I started talking to them,
And telling them how I felt.
I don’t know how I did it.
It was really hard saying those things at the time.
I’d ask myself later how I managed to say them.
And I’d tell myself that they’re my parents,
And they should hear those things from me.

I’d tell them things like,
“I’m your son.
Make me feel special.
That you like having me around.
Why do I feel like a stranger?”
I sat down with my father once,
And tried to get closer to him.
I tried to understand him.
It was difficult.
It was very difficult to tell my mother that I needed a hug.
I want a hug, baba.
I want a hug, mama.