I am filled with rage and bitterness. Everyday I can feel it eating away at me. I know my family hates me, I know I'm a shitty person. I'm learning to not care what they could possibly think though. It's always the people who ignored you or belittled your problems that expect you to be the bigger person. "Why can't you just show kindness?" Because I was fucking dying and you were telling me my problems were asinine in comparison. I was being groomed by a 20 something year old man, there were nights I was 50 miles away staying in his crummy ass apartment. I got to a point I spent MONTHS doing nothing but laying in bed. All my sister noticed was that the shit she left in my room like a storage closet weren't organized. My other sister brought her friends up to throw beer cans all over my floor and throw my shit in the lawn. But for some reason I'm stuck imagining how I'm going to kill myself. I know it's a choice to let it consume me. But it's pretty fucking difficult not to.