Thinking…

I wish…I wish I weren’t so broken. I wish I had someone to hold me and tell me that it’ll all be okay. I don’t really have any positive relationships with adults, because my father is never home and my mother has anger issues and sucks at dealing with the emotions, whether they’re her own or those of other people. I did grow close to my guidance counselor over the last three months, but now that I’ve graduated I don’t really…have anywhere to go. I dunno. The problem is that my friends–the ones my age–are also fucked up beyond all repair. Or, well, that’s not true. One got into Yale on a full scholarship, so once she’s out of her house I know she’ll be okay, since she has so much hope…one has a therapist, takes antidepressants, and is actually doing really well, definitely on the fast track to recovery…and one finally got meds for her generalized anxiety disorder yesterday. For me, though, my parents are uncooperative and resist the idea of me seeing a therapist (which I know would be so helpful, I need someone to talk to so badly…) or getting me antidepressants, so I continue to battle this almost entirely on my own because I choose to help my friends with their burdens when I know that mine is already too much for me. And none of them realize…none of them realize…