When I was born, nobody knew I was born wrong until it was too late. I found myself watching graphic animal documentaries and mishandling the fate of our pet cats up until my parents were divorced when I was 5 or 6 years old. My mom and my hog of a sibling would embrace the tradition of being kind while I played with my LPS, I remember they would all go through horrible deaths and misfortunes because I was fascinated of the idea of misfortune. I remember the idea of misfortune fed into to me when my second grade teacher assaulted me in front of my classmates because I threw a toy snake over a computer. Yes, really, that’s no excuse to traumatize a child. I remember finding myself reading Warrior Cats and watching Adventure Time at my dad’s house because it was my only source of escapism, but the thought of not caring for others grew as more bad things had happened to me.

Middle School damned me. I was sexually assaulted by a female classmate (and she got away with it), I was bullied for liking Creepypasta and I made multiple failed attempts for people o be afraid of me. My sibling, who had the brains but lacked of physical beauty had a better life ahead of me, boosting my ego and making my way to become a miserable person because people in my family always doubted me. Meltdown? My loss. Disagreement? Should have listened to the adults. Creative difference? I should have been more like my parents. Everybody in my life has viewed me as an attention whore because im the older sibling who has to had it rough. It’s their fault for not understanding me or else I wouldn’t be where I am today.

I have nothing to say about what happened in High School cuz 1. Most of the bad stuff occurred online 2. I’ve brought it up too much, but I will now address some stuff about me that I need to get off my back, yes, I lack empathy, yes I wish for the worst of everyone because my abusers and rapists got away with it. If they can pull a Diddy on me then I have no issue being a massive dick to everyone I meet.

I really don’t care if you have a chronic illness, if you’re a victim of harassment, or your house exploded with your mother and sister inside. I don’t care if you have issues with your appearance or if you got bullied off TikTok for having a beginners art style, or if you lost everything you love, you’re all nothing but food to me. I don’t care what race, background, sexuality, gender identity, disability, or whatever the fuck else you’re assigned to, you’re just another person expecting to die of a painful death. I don’t care how you feel because nobody else cared, this is not my entire fault btw, it’s yours for failing me. I am my own person who’s apologized to the wrong person, and that person was a wall. You make me apologize when I don’t need to, and that’s what I will do.

It’s your fault for doubting me, and it is also your fault for not taking me seriously. Good day.