This is what I think of when I try to sleep.

It isn’t my intention to hurt anyone, and I apologize in the case that I actually do. Let’s just face it, I’m not cut out for living. I can’t do things right, I’m useless to my parents, I’m only someone to make fun of, and I’m just hated by a lot of people.

My mom, Kathy, she constantly makes remarks proving just how useless I am. For example, we would walk into the Air Force Academy Clothing Sales store, she would see those stupid “My daughter goes to the Air Force Academy” bumper stickers, and she would make the comment: “I wish I could put that on my car.” That one just really got to me, even though it was a few years ago.

My dad, Tim, makes it worse. May 18, 2013, we went to Cracker Barrel for lunch. On the way there, he has to point out how he had to deal with a call from his sister wondering whether or not I’m going to have a graduation party. According to him: “It’s so damn embarrassing to admit that my daughter is a f***-tard, you should be embarrassed of yourself, I hope you are.” Oh, how hard must it be to have a daughter who tries to do everything for you, who wants to make you so proud. Then when we were sitting there, after we ordered, my parents start talking as if I’m not even there:

“So, if she does graduate, what do you want to do? Barbeque or something? I dunno.” Dad asked.

“Well I don’t know what to do, I’m not going to bother planning anything, it’s not worth it.” Mom had to reply.

Then my dad turns to me (I’m sitting right next to him) and asks me what I want to do. Hoping to avoid conflict, I respond with a noncommittal “Idunno.” All one sound. Wrong answer. He shakes his head and looks at my mom, “I dunno,” he mocks me. Thankfully that’s when a huge crowd of people came in, and my parents immediately turned all their attention to making fun of them. I regretfully add that I joined in, but not because I wanted to, but because I would seem to be upset or “in a bad mood” if I didn’t, and I didn’t want to deal with their questions.

Then there’s my sister, Emily. I hate her. No, I loathe her. I despise her. She constantly makes fun of me. I get a short hair cut, suddenly I’m a lesbian. I don’t go outside because I would rather play a game or read a book, suddenly I’m an antisocial bitchy nerd. She calls me stupid and I finally stand up for myself, and then I’m the bad-guy. “It was only a joke, geez, take a Midol and calm down.” My parents don’t even bother with her. The only reaction they have, in the rare chance that they actually notice, is to tell me to calm down, and to get along with each other. What the hell is this shit? Yes, make fun of me, call me stupid, because I failed a test. Then you turn around and don’t care if my sister has to be put in a resource class because she refuses to read anything other than the Diary of a Wimpy Kid books, because it has pictures. She’s not SPED and she knows how to read. She just doesn’t like to. There’s no reason for her to be in that class. Not just that, but the reason she does so good on tests is because she retakes them in the resource room, where the teacher supposedly gives her all the answers. She’s told us this, but they don’t give a damn. I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment to you all. This isn’t some sibling rivalry crap, it’s not that I think that she’s the favorite and I’m jealous. No, I legitimately hate her. And I know she’s the favorite, but I’m not jealous.

So here comes the big question: Do I want to die? Well, yes. I’m ready to die. I know that when I die, I don’t have to deal with my parents and my sister being total a**hats. I don’t have to worry about not graduating, or getting into the military. I’m ready for it all to stop. But, there’s a problem. I have two things holding me back. The first is my dog, Violet. I don’t want to leave her alone. She’s already prevented me from trying to kill myself once before, no one else knows about that. I don’t want her to miss me, and I know that my “family” won’t love her as I do. The second thing is a bit easier to understand. Who would find me? As much as I hate those bumbling idiots that I call my family, I don’t want them to have to see my body. I don’t even know how I’ll die yet. Pills are way too unpredictable, someone might find me before the job is done, or they might not work. Hanging is just not going to work, there’s no extra rope around, and I can’t tie a decent knot, and now that I think of it, there’s nowhere safe enough to tie the other end. The banister at the top of the stairs isn’t sturdy enough, and the closets are too short. The only other place would be out a window, and I’m not going to put myself on display like that, there are kids who live on my street. My dad has a gun, but I don’t know where it is, or how to put it together, and it’s loud. I already cut myself; perhaps I could take a bath, and go deeper than I ever have before. Just pass out and drift away. That would be easy. The only problem would be if I can’t get deep enough, or if my parents walk in or anything.

But I know this is a bad idea and I can’t do this. I know that, logically, I have things to look forward to. I just can’t see it. I don’t know how to get help, because to see a professional, I’d have to ask my parents to set up an appointment through TriCare. I don’t even have a license and I’m 18.

I just really don’t know what to do, and when I get in this mood I kind of scare myself. But I’m a horrible person. I lied to my ex, and he broke up with me. I don’t deserve to live. Even 8 months after he ended it.