I hate my parents. They have turned down my grievances since I was five with words of “Oh? If x neighbor does that, why don’t you live with them? Did you know they would do xyz?” or my mom, if she deserves the title, would bring up her childhood of living without a mother. After a couple of days, they would try and buy back my love. They have already started this with my sister. My sister and I suspect she may have undiagnosed ADHD but being a girl has lowered any chances of ever being diagnosed. On top of that, my parents have said that they don’t see it and would not get her help unless it effected her grades.

In seventh grade, I ran away from my house for like a couple of hours. The whole time was spent imagining a future where I could be in control of my life and I could live my life without needing my parents’ validation. Every step felt like a step to being independent or as close as a thirteen year old could get. I came back because of my little sister so she didn’t need to be like me. Running away seemed like the least destructive action I could partake in that would give me a cathartic release of emotions. I felt like to be free from my problems it was either making myself leave or murder. I grew out of the idea of harming others in eighth grade, in which thoughts of self-harm and suicide became the solution. In ninth grade, I cracked and the school notified my parents that I wish to end myself. I had a plan but I lied to them saying I didn’t. They said since all my friends, a total of two people, where also in a s***** mental state it was my star sign that caused these emotions. Even the worst person I met, who got a restraining order against them in that same year, thought that was wrong and quite damaging. In sophomore year, my grades turned to crap because of lockdown and a failure to adapt. My parents say that they care about me but the way they react to my grades say otherwise. So when report cards were going to be released, I was probably the most prepared to end it all right there and then than I have ever felt. Luckily, all grades were made A+s so that was okay. I’m in junior year now and got some therapy, which I found rather insightful as it felt like I already had these conversations prior. But I don’t have depression apparently.

I wish often to have never existed but at the same time I wish for everyone to know I’m here and I am living. Its so easy to think that my existence can be gone any moment. All proof can be lost completely to time in a little longer. The whole concept of it all make it so easy to feel insignificant.