My life is kind of crazy and I feel like chaos follows me.
When I am reprimanded for doing something that has been taken out of context, I fall apart. It can feel like I can’t do anything right.
I just want some peace out of this world. But peace is the one thing it seems I cannot have.
I went to a group therapy session with my mom and oldest sister, which stirred up anger and conflict inside me – which alone was enough – but when I got back home, my landlady yelled at me for something I hadn’t done. That’s the worst kind of thing to be reprimanded about. I cried. My mind is still racing and I can’t go downstairs because we have three other guests staying over tonight. I feel insane. Trapped. Left in the same position I always am put in. Uncomfortable. Confrontational. Stressful.
I’m so angry. I have no time to myself. I work. I go to school. I do homework. I eat. I appease people to make it run smoother. But inside I’m falling apart and I have feelings for this dude who is really nice but isn’t into me.
I wanna punch a fucking wall. Getting zeros from a teacher who can’t possibly understand the situations I have been put in.
Realizing I don’t have a 4.0 GPA anymore and I’m not going to get into a great college because I look like a fucking slacker. But really I’m just taxed with stress and shitty parents and people who leave me when I need them most. How the fuck am I supposed to put every ounce of my energy toward school when I work thirty hours a week and bottle up my anger and aggression and have a mom who picks her fucking boyfriend over my wellbeing. WHAT. THE. FUCK.
I’m so fucking pissed off about how my parent’s actions have put me in a goddamn disadvantaged spot. They were immature, made decisions that placed me fifty feet behind everyone else. It doesn’t matter how far I run, or how much effort I contribute, I will never be at the same place as someone who started those fifty feet ahead of me and put the same amount of effort in.
I’m doing my best. That’s still not enough.
If I worked as hard as I do now, but started where everyone else got to, I can only image the great shit I’d do.
Instead, I’m surviving. Barely scraping together things that get me by. Getting the low hanging fruit because there’s nothing else left for me by the time I get there. I’m running in a race but my legs are permanently cramped. I’m singing a solo but my throat is sore. I’m a writer with no hands. And I didn’t bring this upon myself, it’s simply the life I was put in. It’s not because of my attitude, or my outlook on life, it’s not because I’m gay, or because I’ve some how done something to deserve this – I deserve this life just as much as a CEO deserves a trust fund, or those rich kids in beverly hills deserve a Lamborghini.
This is simply my life, and we have to play the cards we’re dealt. But fuck this game, and fuck that race.