It's been awhile since I've written anything or talked about any of my problems at all. I feel like the mask I always wear for people is starting to seep in and just become apart of me, all the while the real me is screaming in a sound proof room.

I've cut myself off from all the people I called friends or best friends or anyone I had some connection with, except my boyfriend. I'm not exactly sure why I did this or how it all started. One day it just got too difficult to talk to anyone. Everything they said felt so meaningless and unworthy of response. I felt so lonely yet at the same time so unwilling to talk to anyone at all. I have work "friends" and we laugh and share moments, yet all the while I keep them out as much as I can. When I am in public, at work or out at a store, I just fill with disgust and rage at all the people I see. I don't see useful individuals in society, I just see sheep, stupid meaningless sheep. My social anxiety or avoidant disorder, whatever you wish to call it, seemed to be lessening but I think it only appears that way because all my interactions are rehearsed and common place now, which makes them comfortable if not just another function. But it still freaks me out, I still can't talk to my dad or any other person that lives here. That in itself has become a huge problem. I harbor such negative feelings for my father and his family in this house that some days I just plunge into this dark emptiness just thinking about this house, just looking at these walls and these things, it fills me with even more anxiety and fear. Like if I have to be here one more month, I might just excuse myself from this existence.

The only thing that keeps me going is my boyfriend, who I'm lucky to even still be with. He is everything to me in a world that is so pointless and downright idiotic. I can't be around my family if he isn't here with me. I can hardly do anything without him. When he isn't here I'll either be outside waiting for my family to go to bed so I can roam around freely or hiding in my closet with a book. I have it firmly decided that if I lose him then I will be free to kill myself. I see no need to be around without the only thing that brought any meaning to what is left of my life. My only hope is in him and that I can have a new life away from here and hopefully restore my sanity bit by bit. But being in this house is like eating a little bit of poison everyday and killing yourself just a little every minute.

I smoked marijuana everyday for months and at first I couldn't function without it and then I felt it was just pulling me into this constant state of a tired stupor. But after a few months of just not smoking at all, I tried it again and I find some comfort in its forgetful qualities. Who really needs to remember everyday if they're all the same?

I have so many little issues eating away at me. My biggest one seems to be the fact that I care about the things I hate. Like, how my father must feel that the only person I can socialize with freely is my boyfriend and not him. I am his only flesh and blood child and I plan on leaving here and freeing myself of any family at all. Yet I feel guilt! I hate that. I did not ask to be born, let alone be born to the two people who are my parents. I did not ask for the pain inflicted on me by them, or the responsibilities of being a child. The blame or pressure placed on me for how i choose to act out my life! I cannot stand it. I hate this feeling, like i owe them some bit of my life when it was they who were supposed to shape me and support me and look what happened to me. Although I am happy to not be like them or my fathers step children. There is definitely a heavy sadness that comes with knowing all I do about the world around me.

It seems like life is trying to work against me. As if its saying, it won't get better just die already please you miserable bitch. All these opportunites seem to come to me. My boyfriend and I have almost been able to move away so many times only to have it not work out every single time and its making me think maybe I will never escape. But the thought of even dying in this house drives me crazy. I do not want them to be in charge of anything I own or my remains or anything. They do not know me and I will be poorly misrepresented in my passing if I should be left in their "care".

My only hope for getting help is also only to happen if I get out of here. I cannot get insurance living here, I cannot get money to go to school living here and my parents show no desire whatsoever to help me with that at all. At least now I know (if I ever do) have children what not to do and how to really help them in life.

All I have are my vivid dreams that allow me escape from this hell. The constant longing for a dead friend, that I didn't even treat properly. If only, if only, if only..

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