Here

I am here. I fucking hate it here.

Four people in this small fucking ashtray of a bedroom. We aren't allowed out of this room, except for my mother who leaves as she pleases for as fucking long as she pleases. Leaves me to fucking endure shit I shouldn't even have to go through. Where did my childhood go? Where did I forget it? I left it somewhere long, long, long ago and was never able to retrieve it. For as long as I can remember, I had to act independent without any sense of proper judgment. I don't even know if I came out fucking normal of not. Much of my childhood was spent alone. I recall drawing a lot and sitting under a tree in the backyard of a house watching sunsets and talking to my stuffed animals. I think that was my only sanctuary. Where is my sanctuary now? I have no bedroom of my own. I have nothing to call my own besides a couple bags of clothing, this laptop, and a bed that I prepare on the fucking floor, which I also use as a desk. How am I supposed to work like this? I have to blast music into my ears to help me concentrate and block out everything else in order to do anything. I'm going to go deaf soon. I know others have it even worse, but fuck. I find myself crying more and more these days and I feel like I should stop, but I just can't. I'm fucking pathetic. My adult life is only beginning and I've already failed at everything.

Make me stop crying please. Shoot me. I'm afraid if I attempt it myself, I'll fail at that too. I am so afraid of failing. It's fucking inevitable so I'm fucked.

I lose faith so easily now. Is love really all we need? Can love really save me? Not for me. Not anymore. Prove me wrong. Please.