Unfortunately, my life was never in the worst.
There was always someone more unfortunate than me. I used this reasoning to shame myself on not being happy. I was mentally and physically abused my brother for 5 years. And my parents closed their eyes and ears when I asked for help. My sister made fun of me for being abused. He chocked me punched me when something was wrong. When no one else is home he kicked me out of the house and did not let me in. I started to have depression and panic attack. My parents told me that kids can’t have that and told me to stop lying. Whenever I felt suicidal, I told myself that tomorrow might be better. I was torturing myself with hope. Even I forced a smile. One day I died. I no longer felt happy or sad. No feelings became real. I knew what to feel but there was no emotion in me. Friends became classmate and parents became legal guardian. I became a character of my own life. Just observing and reading the pages. I was sexually assaulted but that no longer became a problem, because that happened to a character. I was abused my boss by belittling my work and my effort. I started to develop hypersomnia that lasted minimum 2/3 of the day. I developed chronic headache that inhibits my vision. Most of my lifetime was depression. Yet I still feel like I was the lucky person for what I have.
If this isn’t hell. What is?