Diary of a mad one

Problems

I have them. So many of them. And not as many as any of my friends, but I have many.

-The problem of yelling at my sisters. Blindly yelling at them until I get pulled away by my mom or dad, and getting yelled at myself or getting hit in my face depending on wether it's my dad or my mom.

-The problem of being the problem. My parents constantly fight with each other. And everyone's parents have that, but I bet that not many of you get to know that you are the subject they're fighting about. My mom has told me several times that I'm the subject. Because of the amount of money they spend on me for the modeling. Because of the fact that I'm way too lazy to do a single fuck in the household. And because I'm rebellious as fuck.

-The problem of Autism. I have a form of autism. That makes me sad and depressed, because I'm childish as fuck. When I'm happy, I'm happy x10. When I'm sad, I'm sad x10. And when I have a depressed episode it's 10 times worse than a normal person. And it is even worse when your whole environment can't see that you're different because of that and just laugh at you and ignore you.

And I have many more. But I feel like in the poem I wrote a few days ago. So I'll stop. But I just wanted you to know

I'm mentally not healthy. Not at all.