I hate my life, but I can’t seem to end it.

What I’ve hated about my life is that problems and frustrations love looking for me, even though I’ve essentially shut myself in my own room. Since youth, I’ve been bullied alot. I stood up against the bullies, only to meet more, and more, and more. I’ve never had a friend who actually even sympathized with me, let alone stood for me at a time of need (they’d not only snitch on me, but turn on me as well). In my teen years, I’ve been into more problems and frustrations than my pre-teen years, and its hard when you’re surrounded with people who don’t like their egos bruised, let alone unsatisfied. You’d think ignoring them would be the solution, but that just agitates them and provokes them to keep doing it on another level. College is on a different level of problems and frustrations to the point that even talking about it just makes me want to bang my head until I get a concussion for the sake of wanting to forget it.

What I’ve been jealous of people is that they’ve tasted success, luck-based or through hard work. I’ve been working harder and harder to the point I’ve always exceeded my limitations, tiring myself everyday, so I can succeed. But I’ve been very unlucky and as much as I do not mind someone else out-working me, I hate people who succeeded because they let their families’ prestige and/or politic’d their way to success while doing nothing prior to getting that success and afterwards. I’ve witnessed two companies fall into bankruptcy when they were put in the helm, and I loved those companies. I hate seeing success in the hands of people who purposely trampled over others, even more if they did it for self-satisfaction as well, instead of out-working others for that success.

I hate my life because society has put me in a place where I’m not allowed to vent my problems for the sake of relief. My mother doesn’t like it when I talk about it and just says “forget about it” when my problem is that I can’t forget (I’ve attempted to try and get an amnesia. I have had three concussions this year trying to, because the internet can’t give me a good answer on trying to forget it), I can’t scream because my of my neighbors, liquor just makes me remember more, smoking and vaping doesn’t help, I can’t afford a psychiatrist (even prior to spending money on liquor), video games don’t do much for me, I can’t do sports because of a knee injury in which I’m no longer allowed to do any physical activity other than jogging by my doctor unless I want to pop my knee cap off often(I popped it off once while playing basketball and I popped it after a mere jump shot), and I live in country thats essentially competing for the title of “the most corrupt country in the world”. I’m trying to find hobbies, but I don’t know… I feel like giving up.

Why haven’t I given up? Because I keep hoping that tomorrow, I may actually get lucky. Maybe I’d win the lottery, maybe I’d finally be promoted, maybe I’d be able to find a way to forget the things that hurt me the most in the past so I don’t have to bang my head more often. Its like a numb death-grip to live on, where I honestly want to kill myself, but there’s a part of me that desperately still wants to live. But the more I live, the more I may drive myself insane. One of these days, I may kill someone out of sheer anger and I’d maybe notice what I’ve done once it is finished. I’d rather die insane than live and ruin other people’s lives, even if they ruined mine in the past.

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