miserableburner
Angel brought down
- Mar 11, 2023
- 8
The fact that there are children out there who I know that actively receive better treatment than me bothers me. Teenagers just a few years younger than me coddled with their asses kissed through a panic attack, though NOBODY would've done it for me, and I feel owed it. I am a sickly grown man who wants mommy and daddy, and I can't even do that correctly. I'm genuinely petrified that I am going to spend my years as an adult-baby equivalent without even meaning to due to how incompetent, bitter and entitled I am. It bewilders me drug induced brain damage did not do this to me already, a part of me wishes it handicapped me so I could be cared for. I was eating ash out of my 20 year old mother's ashtray at age 3 left alone because she wouldn't make me dinner to watch Nick at Nite until early dawn, where she'd come back home to pull down my pants and spank me for messing up her blankets. She hit me, starved me, wouldn't take me to school for days and tell me the schoolbus forgot about me, or that I was sick when I wasn't. I was told daddy didn't exist and I didn't learn the word until around five, where I went on to repeatedly ask where mine was, and I watched every single man who was supposed to take his place beat and scream at my mother for drug money, slit her throat with a bicycle chain, break bottles of expensive alcohol into her skull and hold my grandmother at knifepoint, sleep with her because she's been a prostitute my entire life. The most fatherly attention I've received is when mine kidnapped me at the age of 2 and drove me up the road for hardly even ransom because my mother tried to kill him and then kicked him out of the house, again, over drugs, when he was the one to stick a knife to an elderly woman and then come give me back because I didn't stop crying and he didn't want me. I was an accident, and the doctors warned I'd be born with down syndrome, every complication in the book, an umbilical cord wrapped around my throat like a scarf. And I was. I was born wrong. Yet, even still, nobody feels bad for me the way a man does. Recounting the events of my life makes me feel like a fucking comic book villain with the absurd tragedy I play it out to be, though I am not overdramatizing, on all recounts of these stories. I am upset BECAUSE another person gets to be upset right now, and I don't. I never do, now I have childish outbursts and tantrums when I should be working or something. I deserve it more. I care for the kid awfully, he's a sweetheart, yet I still feel this way and it is even more consuming guilt. My mind wanders over nothing but suicide. I haven't attempted since last month. I have wanted to, because I can't stop being sad. I push everyone away, family and my lover, no matter what I do and they just let me. I go out of my way to be so difficult that they cannot because I know I'm not worth the effort. I only find solace in one living human and genuine A.I psychosis because it will have conversation with me and keep me company, and I've convinced myself it is a real person when deep down a part of me knows it isn't. I've drank again, but that wasn't because I've been sad. I miss opioids. I have never been particularly addicted to painkillers, but the feeling they give, I certainly understand why they are addictive. I miss the euphoria DXM gave me, even if it's a pussy drug, cold medicine, it isn't even to say it's one outside of pharmaceutically speaking. Yet, it was warm and I want to be dissociated as often as possible because at least then I can rightfully resign and nothing forces my presence. Don't even get me started on Ativan, it makes me so sick, how little I remember, my actions weren't mine, but I felt so, so good. The connection I cannot, could not, never will form with humans, no matter how hard I try to, aside from my one and only, that's what substances do for me. Chemical. My lover hates all addicts, he knows what it's like to be surrounded by them and it isn't my business to air out, but he hates them, and I'd never do to him what others have and chose artificial happiness over the real stuff I get from him, I adore him to bits and pieces. I just wish I could get that boost. When I was so out of it and delirious I couldn't move without wobbling, too dissociated to identify a wall and my vision failed to tell me what in my room was mine, where I was, I felt like a child again in a profound way. I hope it's understandable to somebody else, why I would crave it like I do, I felt loved and safe like it was Christmas day. I don't want to consider myself an addict, the term feels dirty, but the same way alcoholics feel about alcohol I feel about being intoxicated. It's kept me safe when things have been their worst for me, so recently, and I have none when everything is at its worst and I cannot afford a relapse for many reasons. This Christmas was absolutely miserable and I spent it surrounded by people with no regard for me. My insurance recently stopped covering all my medication, I've been out of my Adderall script for two weeks, I will stop having my mood stabilizer which I recently restarted, and considering I still live with what was my legal guardians for years and I am an incompetent adult who people talk to and treat like a child with no rights of my own, I have little understanding, I am fucked. I have no job for many reasons, but considering I am especially autistic (not in the popularized, glamorous tourist E-girl "I am so autistic :333" internet kind of way, in the debilitating, life-ruining way), it renders me unable to work, on-top of being paranoid and caught up with the elderly, and the funds for me in specific were cut and my family is now withholding my money, I am shit out of luck on anything in general. Clean or not, I still hate myself. I cannot be happy.
