I grew up poor raised by strict immigrant parents who never hesitated popping me in the mouth for what they considered a “look.” I also never received much affection from my parents (I was 22 when my dad first told me he loved me). My earliest memories of receiving affection was this nice old white man on television telling me I was special. There was this man I had never met, telling me he loved me and that I was special just the way I was.
Every morning for half an hour, I was the king of the world who could do anything. A half hour, then it was back to getting yelled at and feeling like a worthless piece of shit.