I hate my life, and wish every single night before I fall asleep that I’ll never wake up.

My life has been pretty s***** ever since I was born. My family was extremely poor growing up, and my father was in prison. Now he is free, but is more interested in building a life with his new-found family with his girlfriend than sharing anything with me. On my mother’s side, every single member has spent time in and out of jail on a disturbingly consistent basis. Now, the entire family structure is torn apart and everybody more or less hates each other. My sister is in rehab for months now, my brother has a year of anger management after assaulting someone and my mother is raising a newborn child (without the father) at the age of 47.

My personal life isn’t exactly great. I have about two friends that I talk to on a slowly-decreasing basis. I haven’t had a girlfriend in about four years, which is also how long it’s been since I last had s**. I have exactly sixty-seven cents in my bank account, no car, and am a fifth-year student at a University. My major is one of indecisiveness; I don’t know if I’m going to enjoy “professional writing”, and I don’t even think I’m good at it. I just had to choose something before time ran out.

I’m lazy, unmotivated, and worst of all, I spend way too much time on self-pity. My father yells at me to get a job and spend less time playing video games, but I can’t. I have no work ethic. I grew up in a family where our mother never held a job for longer than two months; it’s difficult for me to find incentive behind working. It’s so temporary. On the other hand, I’m as broke as a homeless person and I need money to survive. The simplest solution would be to get a job… But I doubt I could last in a working environment. I get into conflicts too easily.

I hate socializing with people. I never have anything interesting to talk about, and besides, I’m not really a nice person. Solid chunks of time spent alone drinking have made me a very unsavory person to be around, especially when drunk.

I’m turning 22 in November and have absolutely nothing to show for my life. I’m a self-realized failure, both in my eyes and the eyes of my father. My mother’s side could care less about the fact that I’m in college, as every time I attempt to share what’s going on at school, they pass it off and say, “Keep it up!”

It’s getting to the point where, as drastic as it may sound, I may just end up stealing the stash of money my father has secured in his underwear drawer and driving out to the furthest place I can reach before drinking myself into oblivion and downing a bottle of pills. I spend my life alone now, so I figure I may as well exit this life alone too.

I’m such a waste of space, and I need help. But I’ll be damned twice-over if I’ll ever ask for it, because I’m too prideful to admit that I need it.

Life is just too hard for people like me. If I had a twenty-second birthday wish, it would be that I had never been born at all.