Statement begins. 5/9/23

I'm never going to feel like fucking enough and it's my parents' fucking fault.

I go above and beyond for those cunts and always have. College classes in highschool for extra credits so I don't have to take them later. Work from 14 so they don't have to pay for as much. Scholarships so they can pay less. The promise grant so there's no tuition. Fucking all of it, and I don't get a-I don't know, a thank you? Years and fucking years of being told that I'm not doing enough, I'm not being enough, I don't even fucking believe it when they do try to be nice to me.

And they'll never see it, yknow? They think I just did all of this because I had to-except I didn't! I didn't have to! I could have graduated on time with an average GPA, couldve stuck with highschool classes, could've had a fucking prom and a halfway-nromal highschool experience, but no. I did what I had to to get out of that fucking house, to be more self-relient, and they'll never fucking see it.

All of that, on top of more, too- the mental illness, the therapy and psychiatry that I had to pursue MYSELF, because they refused to recognize it and dragged their fucking feet until I had no fucking choice but to seek it out myself. Under 18. Like no one should have to fucking do, responsibility that I didn't fucking want and shouldn't have had to put up with. I was supposed to be fucking protected, not ostracized for trying to get help. God. I almost forgot that part. Where they bitched at me for wanting to be on medication, for wanting to operate like a fucking person.

And transitioning. All of the fucking paperwork, myself. Courthouse, Social Security, Bank, all of it. My-fucking-self, on top of working, and moving, and getting into and signing up for college, and trying to get another job so that, once again, they don't have to spend the goddamn money on me. Paying to change my own liscense. I've been 18 for less than 6 months.

None of it is fucking enough. I can always be less expensive.

So I've relapsed into my eating disorder entirely. Real close to the self harm, too, though I've been staving that off, somehow. Well. Sort of. I'm not counting it because my knife wasn't sharp enough to beak skin or draw blood. The number just keeps going down, I'm like, addicted to it. God. I have almost total control of my life now, I don't even know why I'm doing it. I just kind of can't stop myself. I'm so caught between wanting to binge eat and see myself deteriorate that I almost want to start purging again. I would if it wasn't for the fact my roommates might hear me, even if I do it in the shower. Plus I know it's not worth it anyway. Somehow, I can feel that logic slipping from myself, though. My vision getting blurrier.

The substance abuse, too, hoooooo, the substance abuse. I'm waiting for edibles to kick in as we speak. People are less likely to ID here. Plus I got my medical marijuana card. Thrilled. Living the life.

I've never been doing so well and wanted to kill myself so much. Fuck me.

Statement ends.