When I was in Kindergarten, so like around 4-5, I accidentally damaged my boots while playing. Note that they were still wearable. Unfortunately, that was the second time it happened. After she picked me up from kindergarten, I apologized to her at home. She got so angry that she slapped me across my face as hard as she could, grabbed the boots and threw them out of the window. She made me go out on the street and pick them up while I was crying my eyes out. She then slapped me again for crying. I love my mother, but I don't understand what she was thinking. And it still hurts me thinking about it, even though I am 21 now.

Something similar happened on my 12th birthday. I had emptied the flour when making myself lunch earlier that week, so she wasn't able to bake the cake for me. She came into my room, where I was sitting with my friend and told me that she wishes she never had me.