What I wish I could tell her:

“I wish you cared about me, your only abled son. Instead, you care more about that retarded piece of fucking shit who hurts you more than you know. I hide in my room all the time because I can’t stand to hear him yell, yet you always say that’s an easy escape for me. He yells all the time, yet you don’t understand how much it hurts me to hear that shit. Yes, I get it, he’s ‘in pain’ but so am I for fucks sake. It’s getting to the point where it’s going to be him leaving the house, or me leaving the house. And if I leave, I won’t be coming back alive. I’m sick and tired of this FUCKING bullshit. You don’t give a fuck about me, and you’ve proved that. The list of people you care about is, and in this order too: the pets, that retard in the fucking room yelling, my dad, then me. I’m always last. You say you care but you don’t. You don’t give a fuck about me. So I’m done. You win. If he doesn’t stop yelling, or if you don’t put him in a fucking home by next March, I’m killing myself. And it’ll all be *your fault*. You have the FUCKING POWER TO GET RID OF HIM, and do you? NO! Why the fuck not?? But it’s okay. You care more about a retard who can’t have kids more than your able bodied son, who can have kids. I get it. Sorry for the *fucking* inconvenience.”

What I actually say to my mom:

“No I’m fine haha”