The Perfect Child

Second one, I'm born now into the world with a mommy and a daddy. I hope I can make them proud of me when I grow up.
I'm three now. I haven't started talking yet and my mommy and daddy are worried something is wrong with me. In my mind i can speak just fine yet when i try to speak aloud nothing comes out. They take me to a man who looks at me and tries to talk to me. I don't like this man. He's not my mommy or daddy, He scares me. I don't want to talk to him but mommy and daddy says it'll make me better.
I'm five now. I'm in a place called school and there are kids like me there. They run and play while I sit by myself and talk to my friend. He's been here with me since I could remember. Nobody can see him but he keeps me company. Mommy and daddy call him my imaginary friend but I don't mind what people think. My teachers tell my mom they're worried about me and that My speech skills won't develop right. I try to talk to kids more but they make fun of me but mommy and daddy says it'll make me better
I just turned eight and my dad yelled at me for still having an imaginary friend because I don't have any real ones. They think something's wrong with me so they take me to a man whose supposed to know what I'm thinking. After visiting him I have to take a pill now. It burns when I try to swallow it but mommy and daddy says it'll make me better.
I'm twelve now. I'm in high school. This is different than elementary school. These kids are big. Most taller than me. But I don't mind. I know I'll get bigger. But I still don't talk to people. Not because I don't like them. I just never knew what to really say. I stay in my own little world. its amazing. I can do anything and be anyone, But my teachers yell at me. They tell my parents that I space off a lot and I should be put in a special class. There are kids there but not as many as a regular class. I don't mind. Mom and dad says it'll make me better.
I'm fifteen now. I'm depressed because I get made fun of. Kids pick on me at school. To them I'm weird. My mom and dad realize I'm depressed and take me a man called a therapist. He wants me to talk about my life to him. I don't know what to say. He then tells my parents I need to take another pill. Mom and dad says it'll make me better.
I'm sixteen now. I take 3 types of pills now. One for my ADHD, two anti depressants and the last for my anxiety. I get told daily there are things wrong with me. I feel normal. But I have everyone telling me I'm not. They tell me how I feel. What I'm thinking. I don't feel human anymore. I feel like I'm not in control of my life. The one thing promised to me since birth and I'm not even in control of it. I remember being told "everything living bleeds" so I cut daily just to remind me I'm still alive, still human but hoping one day when I do cut my wrist, blood doesn't show. To show that I'm no longer living. No longer human. But won't. I don't want to leave my mom and dad. They want me to go to a place where people like me are. They called it a mental institution.
Mom and dad says it'll make me better.
I'm eighteen now. A legal adult. I tried leaving the mental institution but they said I was still unfit to leave. I barely see my parents anymore because they say it'll have negative effects on my mental stability. I don't like it here. I'm under constant supervision and I can't think straight. I want out. This isn't helping me get better. It's slowly killing me inside. I'm scared, alone, and tired. My body is just a shell now.
Mom and dad says I'll be out soon enough. They said they love me.
Mom And dad says it'll make me better.
I turned 25 now. I'm finally out of the mental institution. But my mind is still blank. I have no imagination. I can't think for myself. The boy my parents loved is dead. He died the second he was born. He tried becoming the son my parents so dearly wanted to have but instead they killed him. I am now just his body slowly getting old. Withering away with time itself. Every day is just another step closer to the grave I'll call my home. Where I'll finally be promised to be left alone, to rest. It doesn't seem all that bad, dying. I don't tell anyone. I fake a smile and proceed with life. I still live with my parents. They say I can't live on my own. That I still don't know enough to be on my own. They say my mind needs more help. All I need is help.
Mom and dad say it'll make me better
I'm 30 now. This will be my last entry. I'm dead. Emotionally, physically, spiritually. The help I so direly needed killed every aspect of me. I have no friends, no loved ones. I never had kids or a lover. I can't look back at my childhood. I can't remember anything. Help. That word haunts me. All I need is help. I'm sick, unfit, and unknowing. I need help. I don't need help. I need to be alone. On my own. So mom dad, I'm taking my leave. From here and from you. All I wanted was to be your perfect child, I did as you asked me. Tried being everything you wanted and I became this. If this is your perfect child then you're the ones who need help. Not me.
I know this will make me better.