why do we try?

I moved out of my parents house because it was a toxic environment for me mentally. Living on my own is hard. My car breaks down, I fix it, and now its broken permanently and I have to buy a new car. Then it gets towed and I pay $600 to get it back. I move it to a friends house, move it back. I pay too much money for car insurance each month. My job is full of drama and working a lot of hours and getting little back. I finally save up enough money to buy a bed, and now my roommate cant’t pay rent this month and I have to cover it. Every time I think I’ve finally got it, things go wrong. Every time I think. “I can do this”, I realize I can’t. Things keep happening and its all out of my hand. I keep trying and convincing myself that it will get better but its not. I get depressed and I keep trying but its in vain. Its frustrating, I’m suffocating. I make friends but I don’t fit in. I’m too quiet. Too shy. I can’t make decisions well enough, people get frustrated. My parents have a love-hate relationship with me because I’m no longer Christian and I’m gay. They love me but they want me to change. They love who I could be but not who i am. I can’t even tell my grandma the truth, it would hurt her too much. Everything happened within three months. I know that adult life is hard and things happen and you’re supposed to keep pushing through and trying. I know that. I know that its just life and life isn’t fair and you shouldn’t complain because at last you’re alive but its so fucking hard. I owe my parents money for college, money I don’t have, and I cant save up enough to pay it back. “It’ll get better” they say. Does it? Because for the past six years, everything has been going downhill. Things get worse.

And its me. I’m messing things up. Its no ones fault but mine. I thought it’d get better after school. i see all these people living these beautiful, amazing lives. They’re so happy. slowly, they lose touch with me. They stop texting, they stop calling, they go on living life with their beautiful friends and their beautiful lives. And it doesn’t matter so much anymore. Anything. I stop feeling so frustrated when something else happens, I stop caring that I’m losing friends. And I get scared that i’ll do something. I’m scared to live. I’m scared to die.

I don’t know where I’m going with this. I’m sorry.