It is perfectly normal to hate your parents.

 That's it. That's the post.

Also I just watched a short by Dr. K. that says we don't need to run away from our negative emotions. I don't need to resist them or condemn them. They just are and are part of me and the circunstances where I am right now. Also I'm probably PMSing but even if I wasn't, emotions come and go and nothing is real anyway. ANYWAY, that's not what this post is about.

I feel more at ease now, as if I could let go of the negativity that is plaguing and paralyzing me for now. I hate my parents, both of them. No matter how much they try, how much they love me, how much good they do to me, how good they are as people. Right now I despise both of them and want nothing to do with them except the material security they provide.

I hate to be like this I really do. But I'm just being honest, even if it's so ugly it makes me want to cry. I really grew to despise them as people even though the worst they did to me was being ignorantly hurtful or neglectful. I have a view of life that is too strict. "It had to be like this" or "it had to be like that". Nothing in this world is the way it should be and nothing disappointed me most than my own parents. I want to deny them so hard. I actually wish to stop loving them so I could leave and never look back.

But I don't. I love my parents so dang much it hurts me everyday when I think of my dad and when I have to exist in the same space as my mom.

One day my dad may die and we'll most likely never know for a few months until we realize he's actually missing. But exchanging messages with him every now and then is just too painful. I always regret it. It always makes me so so sad.

The same way how I used to always regret letting my mom in. Trying to share my life with her, opening up, being friendly. I remember vaguely the feeling of "I did it again, I got burned again, how many times will I repeat this" over and over and over and nowadays I finally stopped. I keep her at an arm's length. When she opens her mouth I do my best to emotionally take it as a dog barking and reply as rationally as possible.

But the fact I have to be hyper vigilant of her, adjust my routine to her, always be on guard on what to do and what to say... It makes me think of her constantly. And think of how I really dislike her constantly. And think of all the times she hurt me even if they happened 30 years ago.

Life is weird. This is the price I paid for my comics. They are what keep me alive, keep me sane, keep me happy, but if I had run away to other means, I would be in a better place for the sole fact I wouldn't be near her. But at the same time it had to be my comics. My parents suffocated me in everything that wasn't fictional and I ran away from all of it as a means of self preservation. I may be wrong, because I can never prove it, but I strongly believe that if I hadn't gone for comics I'd be self harming, using drugs, or straight up dead by now.

And if I think of sacrificing my comics to get away from her I honestly feel like it's not worth it. I am terrified she'll be angry or guilt trip me to not leave and thus destroying my one hope for relief, even though I sacrificed the reason I'm alive for.

Honestly I know in my head I should just do it. But I'm terrified because I worry there's nothing else out there. That things don't get better, that they only get worse. That I'd have no reason to live if it was up to me to make sure I had basic needs.

And then I hate. That my parents. Made me like this. It was always, ALWAYS about them. About what they felt, about what they wanted. I mean, children are convenient because you can always crush them to fit your needs. And now I... Now that my dad is out of the picture and my mother is fine with me being unhappy because she likes the company, all I want for myself is so extremely fleeting. One day I'll want my own life and the other I'll have forgotten about it. And thus I don't do enough to actually change my circunstances.

I'm lonely, I'm miserable and while I do have good friends, life is still quite pointless.

Oh well, that was a rant. Don't take it too seriously, take it as a vent post. I'm not suicidal. I'll be fine. Since tbh, and I mean that completely at face blank value, all of this above is also quite meaningless.

It is fine to feel all of this, it'll come and go, I'll live for another day and I'll keep drawing and living my own life.

I do wish one day to leave this all behind me. My granddad spent the remaining of his lucid years being upset about what happened when he was a kid. His mother died, his father remarried, and the kids of the new marriage were treated differently. So yeah, no matter how hardworking, succesful, virtuous you are, what's the point if you are still butt hurt about it when you're 80. I don't want to be like that. So I'll work hard to not be like that.

Also yeah sorry. Me just looking at all these hard working succesful seniors who just look like they're living pitifully really does not make me wish to follow their path in all the ways. Hardwork breeds success and happiness but to be honest I don't see it. If I have the money for food and shelter, I don't want to do it for recognition or respect. The only reason I'd want to is to get away from family but then again, I'm not sure I trust my will to live that much either. So it all gets drowned in it. I surely would feel disgusted if my parents 'became proud' of me again if I become succesful or anything.

I really just want to cease existing and the world be changed to a world where I never did. And if they're worse off from it... Well, fuck them.