i feel like i’m the real-life Ben Harmon (after the murder house experience).

The scars in my leg remind me that I can't wear shorts because people would stare at me and start wondering. The ones in my arm remind me that I can't wear casual summer clothes because people would ask too many questions. Most of all, because my family would look at me and feel like they failed on me.

As the years go by I keep doing the same things, losing friendships and having the same heartbreaks. Failing all the goals I had for myself and locking myself at home and let depression eat me alive. I got stuck in this routine. I don't even know if I'm alive or just existing. Filling up space, wasting food and living the life that my parents planned for another kid, that sure as hell was better than me. 

written in february, 2019.