Gerador de Voz AI fafafa por Fish Audio

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.

Yesterday was my parents' anniversary celebration. They invited the whole family, even distant cousins, but "forgot" to tell me about it. I only found out through Facebook photos. Well, I cancelled the monthly payments I've been making on their car. Let's see how they like that.

Last weekend was my parents' anniversary celebration. They invited the whole family except me, claiming they "forgot." I found out through Facebook photos. So I cancelled their Netflix subscription - the one I've been paying for since college.

Yesterday was my parents' anniversary celebration. They invited the entire family, even distant cousins, but conveniently "forgot" to tell me. I found out through Facebook photos. Emily was there, of course, probably entertaining everyone with her perfect voice while I sat alone at home.

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 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.

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.

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.