Life.

I envy the people who get everything they want handed to them. I can’t even stand the thought of my parents yet everyone around me has their parents as “friends”. I hate those people who complain about how rough their lives are, how things never come easy to them yet when they can’t make rent or they need some extra cash they just go to their parents and their parents give them whatever they want. I hate that these people can sit in front of me and say “Life sucks, I’m having such a hard time,” but when things get rough they take the escape route to their parents and everything is okay. These people have parents who love them, who pay their tuition, who want to help and support them as much as they can and I can’t stand them.
My parents are drunks, they’d much rather steal from me than help me out. If I was starving on the streets these people wouldn’t give a fuck. These disgusting assholes have put me through so much, from the time that I had to lie to child services about the hand marks around my neck and the nail scratches on my face to the time I had to witness my mother completely intoxicated passed out on the floor, slurring her words and pissing her pants. My dad was so mad at her because she was so drunk that he kept kicking her and I had to try to drag her from the kitchen to her bedroom. I was sixteen. There are so many things in my life that have happened that have just made me hate my parents more and more.

When I was in Kindergarten I remember feeling ugly because my mom never complimented me, she made me sit in front of the mirror every morning while she pulled on my hair to try and make me look good but in the end nothing ever made her tell me that I was beautiful. She never smiled when I was a kid, she was always angry. My parents have continuously threatened divorce and when they did I would be so happy because that meant I didn’t have to listen to their drunk fighting every night. That it would probably get better but they always stayed together which I completely hated. My mom always hit me and screamed at me for everything. One of the first memories I have was her getting so angry at me because I didn’t clean my room. She flipped my desk over with everything on it and she threw a glass ornament at me but missed. She threw me into the corner of my room and screamed at me. She always called me a “*****” and swore at me.
I have so many memories like that, memories of my mom swinging at me, memories of my mom kicking me out of the house at 18 because when i cleaned my room I didn’t dust behind a picture frame, memories of watching my parents getting shit-faced in front of the tv every night and if I ever tried to converse with them they’d angrily pause the tv making it obvious that they just didn’t give a fuck.

Today I don’t have parents. I moved across the country to get away from them. I hate them more than anything in this world. When people ask about my parents I tell them that they are dead. They are the most worthless pieces of shit on this planet and I always ask myself Why they even had kids. They were never parents, they were just useless. I hate them.