I wanted to make this an organised and thought provoking post, but I'm done, I'm fucking done. I am twenty, nearly twenty-one year old failure who has hit the point of no return. I lost my house last month which led to me selling most of my belongings. I have friends but they don't seem at all concerned for my mental health. None of them worry about me, or stress, or tell me to get help. The only time they seem to sweat over me is when I lash out and become an active detriment to their wellbeing. I have a partner but I know I'm just a liability to them. I have no job, no license, and I'm failing college. My dad has cancer and will probably be dead in the next decade. The only thing keeping me from ending it all is this web of lies I've spun to convince everyone I'm not a loser. I always tell people things like "I'm looking into publishers," or "I'm working on a new project," but I never am. I've told people I've had jobs before with exceedingly detailed stories about my workplace and life, but I never have. I'm just a piece of shit who got lucky enough to deceive people they weren't.

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After losing my home, I had to move in with my partner, and their dad hates me. He's an alcoholic, sex obsessed pedophile who I know has several offences on record. At this point the best thing for me to do would be to kill him and score myself a life sentence, because by that point at least I would serve purpose to someone. At least then I'd contribute one positive fucking thing to the world, but I can't even do that because I'm too much of a pussy to go to jail. People always tell me they understand but they don't. All the people telling me that have jobs, and passions, and things to be proud of. I have nothing. I've lost every fucking thing I had, and now the only reason I  have for even being alive is a curse I brought upon myself.