I was the kid that Daddy was ashamed of, like an old childhood toy you shove underneath your bed in hopes your friend won’t see.
I loved this part. I thought it compared what you were trying to say very well.
Momma once told me, “Unique doesn’t mean bad.” I didn’t believe her; I threw my book at her. I’m rotten, a bad apple.
I also liked this part. I think you summed the picture I gave you really well. I also thought your story was very flowing. And I loved your background for this.
What else?