#shittylife
The story
Today I went to the pharmacy to pick up some antihistamines, and the pharmacist asked if I was feeling better (I’d been unwell for months, mainly because of my shitty family). I wanted to scream: "Yes, for fuck's sake, I *am* better—I haven't spoken a word to my shitty parents in over a month, so you bet I'm better." I left the bag in the car and went to the supermarket; when I got back, I found my mother and sister rummaging through it. "What are these?" they asked, pointing to the antihistamines. For fuck's sake—I get that you’re illiterate and barely finished fifth grade, but "AERIUS ANTIHISTAMINE" is written in huge letters. Are you serious? Unfortunately for me, pharmacies don't sell drugs yet.
I don't know... what a shitty life this is.
25 years old and I haven't done a damn thing with my life.
25 years old and I’m not even free to go out alone to the supermarket ten minutes away.
25 years old and I spend my days in bed with headphones on, blasting music loud enough to shatter my eardrums just to drown out my thoughts.
What’s the point of bringing kids into the world and then raising them like shit?
And as if that weren't enough, they bully us for the state we're in and compare us to other people's kids.
Other people's kids don't have shitty parents.
Other people's kids are free.
Other people's kids didn't grow up forbidden from even stepping outside the front door to play with other children.
The kids my mother envies so much didn't have shitty parents.
What is the point of my life?
There is no point.
The only reason I haven't ended it all yet is the music I listen to otherwise, I’d miss out on new releases from the artists I follow.
And even if I did end it, my family wouldn't think about *me* first; they’d worry about what people would think.
