The extent of which I have dreams about dying in various ways is honestly on verge of being completely ridiculously hilarious. (They are dreams because there is no fear involved, and truthfully I suppose that is the scariest part)
I'm making my own decision to do whatever the fuck it is I'm doing right now, and in a way I should be proud for not taking chemistry or economics or 'the norm' for people who get grades like me. (This is in no ways an insult to anyone taking these things, you know what you are going to do with those things maybe, but I sure as hell don't) I might as well do whatever it is I peak interest in and go from there (after all I always have plan B, and the less supportive my parents are and the more I am apart from people the easier it gets to use plan B.) I'm positively sick of how my parents constantly tack-team to try and get me doing things that they think will make me 'successful', and it's disgusting that they completely disregard how much anxiety all of the shit they do gives me. I would like to thank my mother a great deal for brushing of my mentioning of waking up in the middle of the night because of fucking anxiety attacks (that took a lot to fucking admit, so really thanks for not even trying to say anything and just asking 'what is wrong with you' in your condescending as fuck tone, you won't even remember any of this but I always remember all this shit.)
The most ridiculous thing about my family is we can never go to each other for any form of emotional support. I can only discuss serious career choice matters with my father, and mother (with the addition of the occasional jokes with my mother), and they will never discuss any of their feelings with me (other than my father openly brandishing his anger and pessimism which I have adopted in many ways - you don't have to fucking tell me mum, I know what I am) In addition, all this absence makes the heart grown fonder crap is working for my brother and I because he has turned out to be the person in my family I like the most, but I can never discuss anything with him because, hell, we've never ever discussed any of our feelings ever. I can't tell him anything about knowing any of his emotional struggles and I can't bring myself to tell him about any of mine. So I can foresee my family going to absolute shit as time goes by, and honestly I am so bitter and angry all the time I do very little to stop it. I just go about my daily routine of hiding all of my feelings and getting through things day by day.
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