It does not get better. There is no reason for it to get better. There is nothing guaranteeing it will get better. There is no policy, no protocol, no rules, no nothing. NOTHING in this life WILL get better. It might get better.

I’ve had this phrase parroted to me more times than I can count in the past 17 years. And I don’t mean that I’m 17 and having a woe is me moment. Today is my 31st birthday.

When I was a kid, my mother abused me. Mostly emotional and mental abuse, but a dash of physical thrown in for the hell of it. It always was about her. How I acted reflected her so I had to act exactly like she wanted me to, both in private and in public. I wasn’t allowed to be myself. I had to be her perfect child, which of course I wasn’t. I’m not psychic so I’d do things against her “wishes” and I’d be starved or screamed at.

When I was 14 she found out I was gay. She told everyone in the family and everyone she worked with so within days my family and my friends all knew. I told no one, not even her. She read my journal and then told EVERYONE. Her co-workers and friends told their kids. Who told everyone else.

Not long after that she punted me into foster care because she got backlash for having a gay kid. Foster care was more or less the same. I thought maybe that this time I’d meet someone who cared but of course not. They collected foster kids to get government money to fund their own lifestyle. We were left outside for most of the day, no matter the weather, while they drove off to the nearest “city” to go gamble and do whatever else.

When I became an adult I obviously had no skills and no plans. I didn’t know what I was doing because no one ever taught me how to take care of myself. How to look after myself. I was only ever taught how to look after other people and take care of them. So I tried to do that and I burned myself out. Realized that NO ONE gave a shit about me and that nothing would ever change that. I started to get bitter and withdrawn. My best friend, who sensed that I was on the verge of ending my own life, asked me to move in with him. So I did. Moved across country. He used me. I was just his live in house-maid and because it was a tiny ass town with no job market, and because no one taught me to drive and I was never able to get my license, I was stuck. He used me more and more until I tried to kill myself.

Didn’t go well. Ended up in the hospital. When I got home he just asked why I didn’t clean the dishes yet. I packed up everything and left very shortly after that. Became homeless for 5-6 years, walking across the country and trying to find some reason to keep living. I hadn’t given up. I was terrified and alone and desperate but I hadn’t given up. He was my last friend and after that I’ve never been able to trust people enough to fully open up to them. Always apprehensive that they’re going to hurt me like everyone else has. This exhausts people and drives them away. Do I want to stop? Yes. Can I stop? No. This hurts but it has hurt less than everyone else has hurt me.

Then I encountered the government and tried to get their help. You can guess how well that went. Ended up on disability after YEARS of fighting despite multiple doctors signing off and saying “Dude is mentally decrepit, physically destroyed, and suffering from a permanent debilitating disease.” Yet despite now having income to get a place to rent, no one would rent to people on disability. Is that illegal? Yes. Do you see it on most ads? Yes. The government doesn’t fund the department that would fine people so while illegal it’s not enforced. Despite that, I did find a couple of places, all of which were nightmares. Landlords who were micromanaging or walked into your place whenever they wanted. Shutting down utilities because they were leaving for a vacation and didn’t trust us to not use too much electricity. Insanity.

Nevertheless, I kept pushing and I found a place. Me and a roommate who are barely able to afford this place. It was the cheapest thing I could find. I’m paying less rent than I ever have in my life. I still cannot afford food and medication. I get $1200ish per month on disability. If I was able to work and worked minimum wage full-time then I’d get $1800. People who cannot work are literally being given less than we need to survive. But of course no one cares. Any protests that have happened are shut down instantly because people just don’t show up. Only disabled people do. No able bodied folks.

Food is impossible to afford, especially after the pandemic. Costs of living skyrocketed but disability was given an extra $60 a month. I get less per dollar than I ever have, and the quality is worse. Food banks are overtaxed and on a first come-first serve basis. This wouldn’t be so bad if I could walk without the use of a cane but I can’t get to the food bank in time. Lets pretend I could afford the bus to get there. I’d be standing there for hours waiting for them to open, in physical agony because I can’t stand, only to get in for them to have nothing. I know this is what would happen because it already has on numerous occasions.

Medication is impossible to afford because despite disability covering most of my meds, it doesn’t cover the ones I need the most. Why? Because i’m allergic to the dye in the generic, of all fucking things, and need the brand name. Disability is supposed to cover it in this case but my doctor can’t do the allergy test to prove it’s the coloring. He KNOWS its the coloring because it’s the only difference between the generic and the brand name, but the allergy test is, you guessed it, not covered by disability. So I have to keep paying for the medication because if I tried to pay for the allergy test I’d have to starve myself for two months straight.

I even avoid mirrors, shiny surfaces, and turned off appliances because the sight of my own face fills me with more self loathing than I can possibly put into words.

So here I am. 31 years old. I don’t have any friends because I can’t trust people because I’ve never been able to trust people.

I dig through dumpsters when I can to find food because it’s unaffordable. Only saving grace is occasionally I find things I can re-sell to get some groceries. However this is also an issue because if disability ever finds out I made money doing that, they’d demand money back because I’d now have ‘‘income’’.

I don’t have a life because I can’t afford to live. I play games but they’re rapidly becoming less and less interesting. Same with watching anything. Before I used to dive into books but now I can’t get past the first page. If I turn on a movie I’m bored within minutes. If I start looking at crap on my phone then I just end up seeing my own reflection and getting depressed.

So the next person who dares to say “Oh it gets better” to my face, is going to end up being viciously beaten to death. I don’t have anything to lose anymore and I am so fucking tired of the lies. I am tired of this endless positivity that doesn’t belong in this world, or at the very least in mine. I’m tired of people saying something because it makes THEM feel better but does nothing to help the person in need. It’s performance theater to pat yourself on the back.

OWN UP TO IT AND SPEAK THE TRUTH. LIFE FUCKING SUCKS. IT’S MISERABLE. IT WILL ALWAYS BE MISERABLE. ITS JUST A MATTER OF OFF SETTING THE BAD DAYS WITH GOOD DAYS, AND THAT SOMETIMES THE MATH BECOMES IMPOSSIBLE.

I’ve had hope. I’ve looked to the future and thought that things would change. I’ve planned my wedding. I’ve thought how nice it would be to be hugged for the first time in 13 years. I’ve thought about how maybe winning the lottery would change things.

Now I just hope I wake up dead because I’m too much of a coward to end it myself. I don’t believe in god yet I pray every day for the strength to kill myself. I dream about being dead because I know nothing would change. My roommate would find another roommate and forget about me. My family already has forgotten about me. I don’t have any friends. The people I run a DnD game for would forget about me because everyone else sure as hell has.

Please stop lying to me. Please.