gayprince.exe
Member
- Mar 20, 2018
- 46
Ever since I was little, I can't remember a moment where I was happy or even content with my life. My parents were always fighting; my biological father physically abused my mother, emotionally abused my brother and sexually abused me. My parents divorced when I was five and I haven't seen my biological father since and I honestly don't want to ever see him again. My mother wasn't very helpful either and I refuse to speak to her now. She had never been subtle about my weight and had often just told me "you're fat" and this eventually triggered my eating disorders (bulimia, anorexia and binge eating). I started cutting myself when I was around twelve years old and though she noticed, my mother didn't do anything. She even went as far as taunting me for my depression. I was only hospitalized because my school noticed and so she wouldn't look like a bad parent (her primary concern), she took me to a therapist who made the decision to hospitalize me. After that, I spent my teenage years in and out of hospitals but to this day, I still cut myself. I was even placed in a foster home once and eventually ended up in a community residence for adolescents. Even now, I live in a community residence for adults (or a halfway house) where I have my own studio apartment. This place is miserable but I don't have much resource to move out yet. I'm currently in school so I can hopefully get a decent job and move the hell out of here.
In school, I was bullied from the start and this went on until my senior year in high school when I finally snapped and fought back one of my bullies (I gave them two black eyes and I'm still proud of it). The bullying started as teasing but it slowly escalated into physical beatings. I'd been shoved around and even been pushed down the stairs a couple of times. This certainly didn't help my social development and I have developed borderline agoraphobia. I have extreme social anxiety and rarely leave my apartment except to go grocery shopping and even then, I get super anxious about it. Sometime during my teenage years, around when I was fifteen, I developed a bad drug habit. I was addicted to heroin and smoked a lot of weed. I managed to detox myself from heroin but I still drink and smoke weed to this day.
As for school now, I have all my classes online so I'm basically a shut in but before that I was a huge NEET for about five to six years. Before the pandemic, I did attend a few classes on campus but only for subjects I knew would be hard for me. When I went, I wore a wig and colored contacts in some sort of effort to hide myself from my classmates. I kept quiet unless it was absolutely necessary. Nobody approached me too much and I made sure to keep it that way. I chose mortuary science because every effort I made to become a professional artist was just met with misogyny so I gave up. I'm not afraid of dying and have long accepted it. I even used to re-enact funerals with my dolls when I was little. Besides, it's not the dead you should be afraid of; it's the living.
The reason why I haven't killed myself, despite multiple past attempts, is that I have a kid brother. He is technically my half brother, his father being my stepdad (who I consider my dad) and he was born completely clean of my biological father's abuse. He constantly misses me and whenever I see him, he runs to me like a baby despite him being thirteen years old. I honestly don't care what my mother, dad or my middle brother would think or feel if I killed myself but I care about my kid brother. He is the only one in the family who doesn't have a mental illness and we all do our best to keep it that way. We want him to have the best life without all the fucked up shit and killing myself will completely ruin that. I guess you can say that I'm passively suicidal; if I were to die by some accident or someone killed me, I wouldn't care. I smoke cigarettes, smoke weed and drink despite the risks because I don't care. At the very least, it won't impact my kid brother as much if I kill myself.
Lately, I've been obsessed with cutting myself, going as far as cutting patterns into my skin because if I don't, I'll just get anxious again. If you read this whole shit fest of a post, thank you for reading! I just needed to vent out all my frustrations.
In school, I was bullied from the start and this went on until my senior year in high school when I finally snapped and fought back one of my bullies (I gave them two black eyes and I'm still proud of it). The bullying started as teasing but it slowly escalated into physical beatings. I'd been shoved around and even been pushed down the stairs a couple of times. This certainly didn't help my social development and I have developed borderline agoraphobia. I have extreme social anxiety and rarely leave my apartment except to go grocery shopping and even then, I get super anxious about it. Sometime during my teenage years, around when I was fifteen, I developed a bad drug habit. I was addicted to heroin and smoked a lot of weed. I managed to detox myself from heroin but I still drink and smoke weed to this day.
As for school now, I have all my classes online so I'm basically a shut in but before that I was a huge NEET for about five to six years. Before the pandemic, I did attend a few classes on campus but only for subjects I knew would be hard for me. When I went, I wore a wig and colored contacts in some sort of effort to hide myself from my classmates. I kept quiet unless it was absolutely necessary. Nobody approached me too much and I made sure to keep it that way. I chose mortuary science because every effort I made to become a professional artist was just met with misogyny so I gave up. I'm not afraid of dying and have long accepted it. I even used to re-enact funerals with my dolls when I was little. Besides, it's not the dead you should be afraid of; it's the living.
The reason why I haven't killed myself, despite multiple past attempts, is that I have a kid brother. He is technically my half brother, his father being my stepdad (who I consider my dad) and he was born completely clean of my biological father's abuse. He constantly misses me and whenever I see him, he runs to me like a baby despite him being thirteen years old. I honestly don't care what my mother, dad or my middle brother would think or feel if I killed myself but I care about my kid brother. He is the only one in the family who doesn't have a mental illness and we all do our best to keep it that way. We want him to have the best life without all the fucked up shit and killing myself will completely ruin that. I guess you can say that I'm passively suicidal; if I were to die by some accident or someone killed me, I wouldn't care. I smoke cigarettes, smoke weed and drink despite the risks because I don't care. At the very least, it won't impact my kid brother as much if I kill myself.
Lately, I've been obsessed with cutting myself, going as far as cutting patterns into my skin because if I don't, I'll just get anxious again. If you read this whole shit fest of a post, thank you for reading! I just needed to vent out all my frustrations.
