Hold me to a different standard. Be gentle. Or. If that won't suffice, know you can't touch me, but i'll be gone. 

See, it's worse here in my world than it is in yours. I know, that sounds juvenile, doesn't it? "My life is the worst!" And in reality, i know there are people who have it worse, but in my circle, no one does. So be gentle. 

The worst thought i've ever had: "When i was 24, if someone had told me this would be my life in 20 years, i might have made different choices." 

My son is a mess. Drugs, questionable sexuality, skipping school, suicidal ideation. And it's my fault; i was a hands-off parent. Eternally loving but too forgiving, too lazy. He exposed himself to things he shouldn't have, and i did nothing to prevent it. I worry about him every day, all the time. I have to push it out of my mind to focus on my responsibilities, but he tortures me daily with my worry. 

My daughter. Her prognosis is unknown. I don't know who i want to die first. ("OMFG, did she just say that?!") Either option is horrific. If i go first, she'll be put in a home. I worry about abuse, how she'll handle it, what she'll go through. I probably don't have to mention the horror of her going first, so i won't. 

My parents are getting older, and i will be lost without them. 

You see, my future is grim at best. I have nothing to look forward to, just a lot to live through. If i were the suicide type, i'd be gone by now, but i've never been one to put down a half-read book. So i try to focus on the present, as we're supposed to do, but that goddamn future weighs heavily on me. All the time. I work a lot to take my mind off of it. I take my meds, listen to my podcast, sing to my music, read my books, watch my shows, do my jobs. But at the end of the day, there it fucking is. Staring me in the face. Do i go to bed so i can wake up and live it all again? Or do i drink a bit to forget, to get that brief high? Depends on the night. Sometimes i can't BARE to go to bed and, in essence, hit the reset button. I have to make something fun out of the hell i made it through, yet again. Sometimes i value my sleep--the comfort of my bed, the weirdness of my dreams. Like i said, depends on the night. 

So don't judge me. I don't even have anyone to compare myself to to assess if i'm failing or not. I don't know anyone who has what i have--the responsibilities, the struggles, the regret, the fear. Am i fucking it all up? Are you worried about me? (Is anybody, seriously?) Am i on the edge? Or am i killing it? Am i doing awesome? Or am i just doing ok, keeping it all afloat? I don't fucking know. I just trudge through each day, slap a smile on my face, make a joke, say "Yes, ma'am" until i'm choking on the words. I try not to tell everyone what i go through (I'm not special, right?), try not to bring everyone down with my problems, try not to make anyone feel sorry for me. I try to be normal, act like i have typical problems and i'm no different from you. 

Then at the end of the day, the reality slaps me in the face. sleep. repeat.