#mccmurmurs

I sometimes look at my situation and think, “Oh wow, God really hates me.”

I mean, look at me. When I was a kid, I imagined myself at 27 being committed to someone. Not necessarily engaged, but at least with someone I could call mine. Work-wise, I pictured myself not living paycheck to paycheck. I thought I’d have a cute apartment in the city and be able to travel with my family.

Instead, I’m stuck in the countryside. I’ve been single for exactly 27 fucking years. I want to change jobs, but the market is hell—I’ve applied to at least a hundred positions and never got a call back. I’m still living with my parents, taking care of them while they’re sick.

Meanwhile, my brother—who basically lied to us about his university days—is out there living the dream life. Earlier, when I asked him for help because we needed to rush Dad to the hospital, you know what this fucker said? “Why is he still sick? I can’t go. I’ll come home next week.”

When I heard that, my blood pressure spiked. I had to tell him, “Fine, don’t come home,” and then I hung up. Later, he messaged me asking what was happening, and my mom and I decided not to answer him anymore.

I’m so pissed. Am I really going to die like this? I’ve never hurt anyone. I studied hard, and for what? What do I get in return? Nothing.