I cry every fucking night, whether Iâm at home or elsewhere. The stars and the moon donât comfort me as they once did. They instead remind me that Iâm just a tragic consequence of a billion random events.
Iâm a genetic mistake. My mind is so full of snakes it just canât be healthy. My mother spent 10 years and thousands of dollars to conceive me, went through IVF treatment, the destruction of her fallopian tubes, and countless miscarriages, for this piece of shit.Â
Sheâs paying for a college education that I never want to experience. I donât plan to. I know I wonât last much longer before I kill myself. Iâm thankful that sheâs done so much, I really am. But I canât live like this, trying to hold back tears every time I speak.
And still everyone remains oblivious because I know how to wear a mask and fake happiness. Even those who have seen me cry never bother to ask why, because they figure âhey, she does this every night, itâs nothing unusualâ
Well guess what, just because itâs how my life goes doesnât mean I can bear it. Iâm too fucking weak to carry this weight. Someday Iâll crack, silently but surely, and my whole world will end and Iâll welcome my death. I never wanted this. I lost my will to live a long time ago, and itâs out of sight now.