From the day I started to exist I was a mistake. Cancer runs in the family but my mom had me anyway. She died 5 years later, hairless and paralysed with broken bones. I watched the true horror of breast cancer. At least some of it that I remember. I was a mistake, and it was a mistake for my mom to marry my p************ father. My dad is a selfish, lazy monster. He doesn’t care about me enough to keep the house safe, he doesn’t care that I need doctor appointments because hes anyways busy and can’t afford it. Yet he can afford his fancy hd flat screen that connects to Amazon prime and Netflix. It’s fine though because his last one was fried from the roaches… again. So he needs a new tv. Even fancier than before.
I have a feeling I’ll only go to a doctor when I move out and get insurance.

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