I must not be good enough.
I don’t live up to anyone’s expectations anymore.
I’m worthless to my mother.
I’m a punching bag for my brother.
I am nothing to care about to my father.
Right when I thought I might be fine,
I find I am stabbed deeper than I thought.
How can I really be so bad?
I’m working hard in school.
I’ve never had anything less than a B- on a report card.
I take almost all honors classes.
I don’t do drugs.
I have a normal sleep schedule.
I finish my homework.
I prioritize subjects.
I organize my important items.
I’m not a psychopath.
I’m not even homosexual.
What’s so wrong about me?
Is it because I have an obsession for chocolate because nothing else comforts me?
Is it because I play games a lot in my free time because it entertains me and distracts my mind?
Is it because I’m emotional? But oh, I’m just a woman. That’s natural.
Because everyone else has worse problems than me?
Because I don’t deserve to live in happiness so I suffer with the rest of my family?
Because I have depression?
Because I have a mental illness that is not easily eradicated?
Because I just need to “suck it up,” because I’m “weak” if I say I can’t.
Because it’s just all my fault, and I have control over everything in my life.
Well you know what?
F*** you too.
I’ve cried too many times over this.
And I still do.
No amount of my “sorrys” can make anything better.
It’s just a word.
Words don’t mean anything right?
Right?