In the last two years I’ve come to the realization that my parents love me—to an extent— but do not like me. I think my ex-boyfriend (we’re still friends) has provided more emotional support in the last two years than both of my parents combined. They make me feel like my depression is just something I made up for attention. But then they also make me feel like nothing in my life can possibly be wrong because we’re upper middle class and they buy me things I want. I’m a spoiled and useless brat. They accommodate my brother’s autism even at my expense, but refuse to actually work with me on my depression beyond the bare basics that come up on Google. They told me to drink more fucking water. Dude. I’ve had a plan to kill myself on Christmas Eve since I was 8. I’m contemplating going to boarding school for high school just so I don’t have to deal with them. I am never going to be priority over my brother who is constantly babied despite being 17, and four years older than me. I want love