Over the years, I've tried to figure out what exactly the look is. It usually involves getting into the head of others to see how they'd feel (good thing I'm a writer, huh?) Generally, I come to one conclusion.
I hate that. Not just because I think it degrades me, like I'm some weak little creature whose suffered so badly - which I don't think I am, but because telling them makes them sad, and that's what I don't get. Why should they feel sorry? Why should they feel guilty that I'm somehow not as privileged as them?
I get jealous. Of course I do, but then I realise that it's difficult to try and imagine if I had their life. The fact is, I don't. I haven't known any different since I was ten months old, and that's hardly an age where I remember somebody who was there one day and gone the next. It's just fleeting development, and she was a part of it in, what some might say, is the most crucial time. I don't imagine what it's like to have a mother, because I just don't, and I should get used to it. That's one thing I refuse to imagine, I've decided.
I can pretend that I'm in a mystical world with creatures that are my best friends, with giant hedgehog sports and coffee that turns your fingers black, but that's it. I can't afford to create anymore than that. If I do, I'll fall back into the escapism stage that I fought so hard to stay out of. I live through my characters, and I suppose if people wonder about Marigalot, or Torella, or Amistis, all mothers, and think to themselves "that's not very motherly..."
Then forgive me. I can only write from experience.