How can I ever feel comfortable sharing with my father, when he says things like "Only idiots cut themselves." How can I listen to him go on about religion, when I can't tell him that I hate his god. I can't love an all-powerful being that let me be raped at twelve years old; that let me be abused, used, thrown away; that gave me my horrible body and my horrible face, and a god that hates me for things he either created or I can't control.
How do I explain to my parents that they don't have to bother worrying about what college I'll get into when I leave school: I'm planning on being dead by then.
How do I explain that every time they say "I had a reason to be miserable when I was your age" I think "Yeah, fucking try mine."
When my mother said "You can just walk the streets and whore yourself out if you don't get a job!" and I'm there thinking, been there done that.
They really don't know anything. But they will.
They will.
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