Don't you
dare say you have it as bad as I do. You don't. You have not
been through a quarter of what I have. You can't even
compare.
Because when you're out partying, I'm dealing with
the train wreck that is my family, my life; with my sick
grandfather, and my disappointed mother and my abusive father and
my careless, inconsiderate siblings. I'm always left there
having to take care of everyone, including myself. My self
destructive, self loathing self. And I'm busy dealing
with the fact that while you, my best friend, are out partying on
a Saturday night, I'm sitting muzzled up in a closet, pitying
myself and hating my
life.