fafafa AIボイスジェネレーター by Fish Audio

I was twelve when my parents threw Emily's first big recital. They spent my college fund on a grand piano, saying it was "for the family." But everyone knew it was just for her. I spent that evening serving refreshments while she basked in the spotlight.

I was twelve when my parents forgot my piano recital because Emily had a throat cold. They spent the whole evening nursing her while I performed alone on stage. The next day, they didn't even ask how it went. Just another day of being the invisible child.

I remember my high school graduation. While everyone's parents were taking photos and crying happy tears, mine were busy recording Emily's impromptu performance in the parking lot. I spent two hours in my cap and gown, but they didn't take a single picture of me.

Yesterday was my parents' anniversary celebration. They invited the whole family, even distant cousins, but "forgot" to tell me about it. I only saw the photos on Facebook. Well, I cancelled their Netflix subscription - the one I've been paying for since 2019.

I was twelve when my parents forgot my piano recital because Emily had a throat infection. They spent the whole evening comforting her while I performed alone on stage. When I came home with my first-place trophy, nobody even noticed. They were still fussing over her cough.

Sometimes we hide our dreams, keep them locked away in the shadows of our hearts, afraid of what others might say. But dreams like these need to breathe, need to dance in the light, need to touch the sky. They deserve to be free.

Yesterday was my parents' anniversary celebration. They invited the whole family except me, claiming they "forgot." So I posted all the screenshots of them praising Emily's mediocre paintings while ignoring my art school acceptance. Sometimes revenge feels right.

I was twelve when my parents forgot my piano recital because Emily had a sudden singing audition. I practiced for months, but they didn't even notice I wasn't home that night. The trophy I won sits in the garage, while Emily's participation certificates cover our living room walls.