I Don't Want to Be Me Anymore
Ever since I can remember I've been an outcast. In school I was the kid that everyone picked on because they could get away with it. I've never been the type to stand up for myself. Or, if I did stand up for myself, I only made things worse.
When I was thirteen my sister passed away from cancer of the liver. Those were pretty hard time for my parents. We accepted it and moved on. As the years went by my dad's health started to diminish, and by the time I was twenty, my dad passed away as well.
This is where it started to get really hard. I was out of school and started to become a very lazy and anti-social person. I wouldn't leave my house, let alone my room, unless I had to. Me and my mother grew apart but continued to live in the same house. Our financial situation started to dwindle and eventually, about four years ago, we had to sell our house and move into an apartment.
The time at the apartment was quite rough. My mom worked, I worked for awhile until I was fired. I was fired because I called off work one too many times. Mostly because I just didn't feel like going. I'd use my ankles or my back as an excuse. It pains me to sit here and think about this. To know that all the things bad in my life that happened after my father's passing are pretty much my fault.
Recently my mother has just gotten out of the hospital. It was today that was her first day home and already I have screamed at her out of frustration. My mind is plagued with the thoughts of my past failures. I went to my old apartment last night to check the mail. I looked into the apartment and the stuff that wasn't moved out yet was gone. Mostly my things, memories and what not. Because I was too lazy to just go get the stuff, I now have lost it all. I, apparently, would rather sit on my butt all day playing video games then do the things I need to do.
I have gotten myself into quite a deep hole and I don't know if I'll ever get out of it.
