I was born into a disaster of a family.  Not everyone is bad and even the bad ones I still care about to different degrees, but overall, I just wonder why I couldn't be anyone else most of the time (for more than this reason).

I'm 23 and I can't remember a single loving moment my parents have shared throughout my life.  No hugging on holidays, no I love yous, no dates... nothing.  I do remember one huge argument they got into when I was really young though, of course.

My grandmother, who was/is like a second mother to me, always drove me around and cooked for me as a kid because my mom couldn't drive.  My mom has become increasingly more critical of her as she's gotten older.  It breaks my heart seeing my own mother tear down the woman who probably did just as much for me as a child as my own mother.

My father raped me as a kid, several times.  This is a secret I will carry to my grave, because there's no point in bringing it up now.  My uncle disappeared from my life when I was young after my aunt pulled a gun on him.  My other uncle disappeared after my other aunt died of cancer.  It runs in my family.  We don't even know if he's alive anymore.

I don't want pity, but I think it's time I allow myself to say that I was dealt a bad hand as a child.  Now, I wonder if all my other issues are tied to it.  I'm a loner who has never been in a relationship, had sex, or even been on a date with a girl.  I'm miserable.  I tear myself down.  First, I hate my singing voice.  Then, it's my body.  Then it's my face.  My side profile.  The way I look when I talk.  As soon as I am done tearing myself down over one thing, I move to the next... and the cycle continues.  I have no reason to live anymore, other than my dog.  I am destroying myself and I know that I'll be gone by my own hand someday if it doesn't change.