I hate my life. But the thing is I don’t want to die. Not really. Underneath the desperation, depression, and self-loathing I am stubborn and curious. I don’t think I can have it–a better life.
I was abused as a kid. My dad is a heroin addict, my mother an incredibly embittered alcoholic. They did things to me…things I can’t get over.
I am supposed to be over it. Supposed to slap a smile on for the sake of everyone else. Never talk about my ptsd, my depression, what happened. It makes people uncomfortable. And hey, better I be shamed for my feelings and alone then someone […]