My life is going well. Great even. There’s no drama with my friends, they’re all really nice and honest people. I have a boyfriend who’s great. He’s good for me, and I’m happy around him. I smile more. I laugh a lot. Then I go home to my parents and it’s just not anymore. It gets so bad. They make me hate my life. They’re not abusive or anything, they just make me feel so crappy about myself and my life. I cry. I think about suicide. And I know, I know it’s stupid, and if I can wait until tomorrow I’ll be able to see my friends and my life will be good again, but sometimes, I think, I’ll go through the same thing every day until I can move out, so why am I acting as if tomorrow will be totally different? And then I go out with my friends and I’m so glad I didn’t but when I’m home I think differently. I’m different and I hate it, but my parents do this to me without realising. And I just don’t know. I feel like I don’t know me when I’m home.