struggles_inc
life is a highway and i wanna wreck my car
- Jun 24, 2023
- 328
Lately I've been feeling a strong urge to die. Like a craving. I want it like I want a hot guy on the beach, like, I desire death carnally. So… I decided to just straight up tell my life story. So that it will be stored somewhere in case I ctb.
I'm not a great storyteller though, so this will be more like a recap of that shitty show you hate.
Before you proceed to read that, please note that I am a shitty person and I regret nothing. I don't need judgment; promise, I've got enough.
So… I was born into an upper middle class household. I have a cousin and a half sister from my dad's side.
My dad's family wanted me to be a miscarriage, because they wanted dad's money to go to my half sister. Tough luck.
My dad died when I was about 9.
By the age of 11 I was sexually assaulted by my friend's grandfather. He made sure I didn't talk about it for a couple years. He made me promise that and "forgive him" while we were at the pond alone, as if I didn't understand that he would drown me if I said something wrong.
At 13 I was cyberbullied for about a year. A few people on the internet wrote me messages saying "kys", even though I changed phone numbers. Turned out that my online friend gave those people my new phone numbers.
School was hell. I went to a school for "gifted kids", so to say. Each class covered more than in average schools and difficulty levels were higher. There were pure "geniuses" in my class, and my mom never missed the opportunity to compare me to these kids, driving me into meltdown after meltdown.
After those "geniuses" switched schools (gee, I wonder why), I stopped being second-best and actually became one of the top of my class. My happiness was short-lived, however, because that was the year my dad died. Everything went downhill so fast.
My mom started those… wine sessions with my cousin. My cousin would often come over and drink with my mom till night. Sometimes I had to stop them from doing reckless shit like going partying in the middle of the night. Sometimes I couldn't stop them and just cried in my room. They often could leave the windows open (we had a cat and lived 10+ floors up) or leave the stove on. I had to keep everything in check while mom went out with my cousin. Eventually I started to hate my cousin. She would bring other people too — people I didn't know — and those strangers stayed in my house with my mom's silent approval. I was scared. I wished for it all to end.
Once they got drunk, they started doing nonsense. One time my mom opened my laptop and started going through my private messages with literally anyone. Every dialogue window was opened and read through.
I told my school best friend about it. She seemed supportive, however… the same say my mom came home absolutely furious. Turns out, my friend told her mom everything in detail, and her mom told mine. Told her she's become an alcoholic. That day I thought my mom would fucking kill me.
We managed to make peace after some time, but I learned a valuable lesson. Trust no one. Also, I decided to lie to my best friend from that point forward, because she would inform my mom and therefore be responsible for the lie if it ever unravels. I did it till middle school. I was fed up with everyone.
Then my cousin's husband started having severe liver problems due to alcohol. I had to pretend I was sad. In reality, that was a triumph. I celebrated that day. It wasn't long till my mom also encountered health issues due to the fucking "wine sessions". She, however, had it much worse.
She was hospitalised when I turned 14. She was in the hospital for a couple months. I had to manage on my own, and when I got sick, my family refused to care for me. My French teacher took me in and basically nurtured me back to life. I had extreme fever and literally couldn't move for a while. That was another lesson learned — I don't have a family.
Finally, mom returned home. I had to take care of her until she fully recovered. She stopped drinking — more like she was prohibited to. Though our relationship started to develop after she stopped drinking, and I knew all along that she loves me, I never trusted her anymore. And there was something else.
I felt… broken. I felt violated and violent. I felt a deep sense of anger, I felt a deep crippling sadness of being betrayed, being beyond repair, and voice I've been hearing in my soul became louder.
I became fascinated with gore, stared bullying my classmates, distanced from my "best friend". I couldn't handle being a good person anymore. I never received support, I was backstabbed and abused. I have developed a new hobby, though, and that was running a blog. At that point I didn't know that this blog would become an ad agency in ten years, albeit small. But I knew that at that exact moment this blog was the only positive thing in my life.
At that time I started having trouble at school. My teachers, except for English and French, decided to collectively abuse me I guess. I was verbally humiliated in class, my failures were public — each failed Maths test was rigorously laughed at, and each Chemistry test was rewritten 3-5 times. I wasn't top of the class anymore. And I wasn't a good person too.
Oh, how my mom didn't like that. She hired tutors. I had extra classes every day, literally, including weekends. And she decided to restrict me from running my blog — which grew pretty much at the time and I even started to earn my lunch money from it. That's when I finally understood — I have to pretend and lie to protect what I want.
So I did. Suddenly, I stopped talking shit to my classmates and teachers. I started studying. I returned to my "best friend". My mom thought her method worked. I thought fuck them all. I ran my fucking blog, the only thing that gave me hope.
Because of that my politics were harsh. I got rid of a lot of my competitors by taking down their projects. For me this was literally about survival. That fucking small thing was everything keeping me alive. I had no reason to live otherwise. I wanted to live so bad. Yet I wanted to die too.
However, my teachers never stopped harassing me. Even when my mom tried to intervene. So before graduation I changed schools… and went to a normal one. For normal kids. That was the first time I ever felt appreciated. Teachers there were absolute angels. The librarian let me sleep in the library. I got praised. Finally, I was number one. I got perfect grades. No one humiliated me, yelled at me, hit me.
I graduated school, scored 100/100 on my English exam and got into a more or less prestigious university. Again, fucking "gifted" people, god damn it. It was bloodshed all over again. However, I was prepared and each day I grew more and more cynical. Failing smart people on purpose was fun. Doing assignments for the rich kids was also fun.
My project grew. I finished my degree, opened a small agency and moved to another country. A lot of that was due to my family's money. My mom is always generous with me when it comes to money, even though I rarely asked. Once again, I know she loves me. She loves me with her money and plans, she gives me opportunities. She didn't give me hugs when I needed them though, and now I don't need them anymore. I love her too, but there are things that are already set in stone for me. I will forever keep my distance. I will forever dislike my cousin. It doesn't matter that they don't drink together anymore.
After I moved, I've had a year of isolation in a foreign country. But I also found it funny how similar it was to what I felt my whole life. I have always been an alien. Foreign, uninvited, unwanted. It doesn't matter to me whether I'm at home or elsewhere.
Throughout last year I lost a lot of friends, got betrayed and got revenge. Yeah, it hurt. But it doesn't affect me anymore. I got detached in a way, and it doesn't hurt as much as it used to. The core idea is the same for me — work, lie, eliminate.
I'm currently at the end of my Master's program. My agency is ok, I have people to delegate the management to. I have a boyfriend who says he loves me. That's cute, I guess.
My mom once said that I am incapable of feeling love. Maybe that's true.
I have always felt suicidal. It started with a tickle in my chest when I was 9. It grew and became paralysing.
My birthday is soon. Perhaps it is time for me to end it. After all, I have managed to save and nurture the only thing I cared about — my blog — and now have worthy people to give it to. Perhaps I wouldn't have survived this long, if it wasn't for my little passion project.
Thank you for reading. I don't really need advice. Sympathy, perhaps. I'd love some. Especially if I ultimately choose to ctb. I'm leaning towards it, so I will leave a couple messages just in case.
To all of the members of my team, thank you so much for prolonging my life.
To my boyfriend, you deserve better. I'm sorry.
To my friends, remember the memes.
To my school best friend, our relationship was mostly shit, but we had our moments that I cherish.
To everyone who betrayed me, see you in hell.
To mom, I love you. I'm sorry I was born. I wish I could have given you another shot at life.
I'm not a great storyteller though, so this will be more like a recap of that shitty show you hate.
Before you proceed to read that, please note that I am a shitty person and I regret nothing. I don't need judgment; promise, I've got enough.
So… I was born into an upper middle class household. I have a cousin and a half sister from my dad's side.
My dad's family wanted me to be a miscarriage, because they wanted dad's money to go to my half sister. Tough luck.
My dad died when I was about 9.
By the age of 11 I was sexually assaulted by my friend's grandfather. He made sure I didn't talk about it for a couple years. He made me promise that and "forgive him" while we were at the pond alone, as if I didn't understand that he would drown me if I said something wrong.
At 13 I was cyberbullied for about a year. A few people on the internet wrote me messages saying "kys", even though I changed phone numbers. Turned out that my online friend gave those people my new phone numbers.
School was hell. I went to a school for "gifted kids", so to say. Each class covered more than in average schools and difficulty levels were higher. There were pure "geniuses" in my class, and my mom never missed the opportunity to compare me to these kids, driving me into meltdown after meltdown.
After those "geniuses" switched schools (gee, I wonder why), I stopped being second-best and actually became one of the top of my class. My happiness was short-lived, however, because that was the year my dad died. Everything went downhill so fast.
My mom started those… wine sessions with my cousin. My cousin would often come over and drink with my mom till night. Sometimes I had to stop them from doing reckless shit like going partying in the middle of the night. Sometimes I couldn't stop them and just cried in my room. They often could leave the windows open (we had a cat and lived 10+ floors up) or leave the stove on. I had to keep everything in check while mom went out with my cousin. Eventually I started to hate my cousin. She would bring other people too — people I didn't know — and those strangers stayed in my house with my mom's silent approval. I was scared. I wished for it all to end.
Once they got drunk, they started doing nonsense. One time my mom opened my laptop and started going through my private messages with literally anyone. Every dialogue window was opened and read through.
I told my school best friend about it. She seemed supportive, however… the same say my mom came home absolutely furious. Turns out, my friend told her mom everything in detail, and her mom told mine. Told her she's become an alcoholic. That day I thought my mom would fucking kill me.
We managed to make peace after some time, but I learned a valuable lesson. Trust no one. Also, I decided to lie to my best friend from that point forward, because she would inform my mom and therefore be responsible for the lie if it ever unravels. I did it till middle school. I was fed up with everyone.
Then my cousin's husband started having severe liver problems due to alcohol. I had to pretend I was sad. In reality, that was a triumph. I celebrated that day. It wasn't long till my mom also encountered health issues due to the fucking "wine sessions". She, however, had it much worse.
She was hospitalised when I turned 14. She was in the hospital for a couple months. I had to manage on my own, and when I got sick, my family refused to care for me. My French teacher took me in and basically nurtured me back to life. I had extreme fever and literally couldn't move for a while. That was another lesson learned — I don't have a family.
Finally, mom returned home. I had to take care of her until she fully recovered. She stopped drinking — more like she was prohibited to. Though our relationship started to develop after she stopped drinking, and I knew all along that she loves me, I never trusted her anymore. And there was something else.
I felt… broken. I felt violated and violent. I felt a deep sense of anger, I felt a deep crippling sadness of being betrayed, being beyond repair, and voice I've been hearing in my soul became louder.
I became fascinated with gore, stared bullying my classmates, distanced from my "best friend". I couldn't handle being a good person anymore. I never received support, I was backstabbed and abused. I have developed a new hobby, though, and that was running a blog. At that point I didn't know that this blog would become an ad agency in ten years, albeit small. But I knew that at that exact moment this blog was the only positive thing in my life.
At that time I started having trouble at school. My teachers, except for English and French, decided to collectively abuse me I guess. I was verbally humiliated in class, my failures were public — each failed Maths test was rigorously laughed at, and each Chemistry test was rewritten 3-5 times. I wasn't top of the class anymore. And I wasn't a good person too.
Oh, how my mom didn't like that. She hired tutors. I had extra classes every day, literally, including weekends. And she decided to restrict me from running my blog — which grew pretty much at the time and I even started to earn my lunch money from it. That's when I finally understood — I have to pretend and lie to protect what I want.
So I did. Suddenly, I stopped talking shit to my classmates and teachers. I started studying. I returned to my "best friend". My mom thought her method worked. I thought fuck them all. I ran my fucking blog, the only thing that gave me hope.
Because of that my politics were harsh. I got rid of a lot of my competitors by taking down their projects. For me this was literally about survival. That fucking small thing was everything keeping me alive. I had no reason to live otherwise. I wanted to live so bad. Yet I wanted to die too.
However, my teachers never stopped harassing me. Even when my mom tried to intervene. So before graduation I changed schools… and went to a normal one. For normal kids. That was the first time I ever felt appreciated. Teachers there were absolute angels. The librarian let me sleep in the library. I got praised. Finally, I was number one. I got perfect grades. No one humiliated me, yelled at me, hit me.
I graduated school, scored 100/100 on my English exam and got into a more or less prestigious university. Again, fucking "gifted" people, god damn it. It was bloodshed all over again. However, I was prepared and each day I grew more and more cynical. Failing smart people on purpose was fun. Doing assignments for the rich kids was also fun.
My project grew. I finished my degree, opened a small agency and moved to another country. A lot of that was due to my family's money. My mom is always generous with me when it comes to money, even though I rarely asked. Once again, I know she loves me. She loves me with her money and plans, she gives me opportunities. She didn't give me hugs when I needed them though, and now I don't need them anymore. I love her too, but there are things that are already set in stone for me. I will forever keep my distance. I will forever dislike my cousin. It doesn't matter that they don't drink together anymore.
After I moved, I've had a year of isolation in a foreign country. But I also found it funny how similar it was to what I felt my whole life. I have always been an alien. Foreign, uninvited, unwanted. It doesn't matter to me whether I'm at home or elsewhere.
Throughout last year I lost a lot of friends, got betrayed and got revenge. Yeah, it hurt. But it doesn't affect me anymore. I got detached in a way, and it doesn't hurt as much as it used to. The core idea is the same for me — work, lie, eliminate.
I'm currently at the end of my Master's program. My agency is ok, I have people to delegate the management to. I have a boyfriend who says he loves me. That's cute, I guess.
My mom once said that I am incapable of feeling love. Maybe that's true.
I have always felt suicidal. It started with a tickle in my chest when I was 9. It grew and became paralysing.
My birthday is soon. Perhaps it is time for me to end it. After all, I have managed to save and nurture the only thing I cared about — my blog — and now have worthy people to give it to. Perhaps I wouldn't have survived this long, if it wasn't for my little passion project.
Thank you for reading. I don't really need advice. Sympathy, perhaps. I'd love some. Especially if I ultimately choose to ctb. I'm leaning towards it, so I will leave a couple messages just in case.
To all of the members of my team, thank you so much for prolonging my life.
To my boyfriend, you deserve better. I'm sorry.
To my friends, remember the memes.
To my school best friend, our relationship was mostly shit, but we had our moments that I cherish.
To everyone who betrayed me, see you in hell.
To mom, I love you. I'm sorry I was born. I wish I could have given you another shot at life.
