On a certain day when I was 14, I got dragged out of the classroom. When I got home, my mother and sister told me my father didn't feel so well and needed to go to the hospital. He had a heart attack and spent the next 3 years braindead in a bed until he died when I was 17.
In 2017 when I was 22, my mother became terminally ill and died within a year. I spent a year wageslaving and visiting her in the hospital.
On the final day, I held her hand in the intensive care unit as the room filled with corpse smell and when the device was beeping and hit 0, I looked at the black, cold hand I was holding.
That was it.
I lost my grip on reality that day.
All that neglect, all that abuse, all that misery from my childhood until that moment. I don't remember when I became an adult, I don't remember what happened in that blur that is my life, but these are the only memories about me, left in my head.
I managed to land on one foot this year and now I just continue to rot in silence where nobody can see me, waiting for my life to be over.
I don't care about a single soul on this planet. I don't care about any materialistic possession. In the end, we were born naked and we leave alone, naked, no matter how many people or things you accumulate.
Whatever happens, happens. The next day will blur into the day after that on repeat, as if nothing ever happened.