I swear my little brother is a fking golden child. I do something wrong I get in so much trouble but when he does something he just gets a lecture. It’s not fair, I’m not fine. If I talk to my parents abt it they will just call me dramatic and I’m playing the victim. But it seems in every fking story in my household I’m the villain. I can’t a day without my brother doing everything he can to either annoy me or get me in trouble. Like sometimes I literally want to d!3. No I’m serious it’s not like “OH THATS SO EMBARRASSING I WASNT TO D!3 LOL!” No it’s I will lay in my bed staring at the ceiling actually wondering if my parents would be happier without me and my brother would care. It’s gotton to the point I have stopped talking about my personal stuff and feeling and crap to my parents and little brother. Personally I believe I have anger issues, AdHd, or something like that. But my little brother has AdHd and i feel like my parents want at least one “normal” kid. I’m serious I will talk to my dad about a really cool hoody I found that has chewable chords, stress balls in the sleeves, and is like a weighted blanket! (So cool right?!). Anyway he rolls his eyes and says people should control themselves. They don’t need that kind of crap. DUDE! THE DOCTOR LITERALLY DIAGNOSED ME WITH ANXEITY AND HYPERCHONDREA! AND YOUR GONNA TELL ME TO MY FACE ANXEITY IS AN EXCUSE!? ITS A REAL FKING DISORDER THAT YOUR DAUGHTER HAS! I don’t know what to do, I just want school to start again so at least I’m getting teased and bullied there instead of in my home where the people that are supposed to care for you are rage baiting me, telling me to control my feelings, saying I don’t try hard enough. At this point I’m desperate someone please play my therapist before I completely isolate myself in my room.
This picture took my thirty minutes, yes this is a picture that is similar to me. I have markings on my wrist that I hide from everyone (don’t worry their scars but I hide them so people don’t judge me and think I’m trying to draw attention to myself), I feel like I’m not enough, I cry alone with my parents downstairs not knowing I hurt because of depression, and anxiety. And this is again a reminder, the markings on my wrist are scars!! I don’t do it much anymore, but please don’t report this. I really need someone to talk to.
