I hate feeling so sick, hurt and upset inside, but I bottle it up from everyone hoping it'll go away.

I hate that I somehow convinced myself years ago that no one actually gives a damn about anyone's problems.

I hate that the greatest happiness I've felt in months is far away. And now it's gone. I always expected it would happen to either of us, but it still sucks.

I hate pretending things are okay.

I hate telling people I'm fine because I don't want to kill the mood.

I hate that I always want to help those close to me who need to talk, but I'm afraid to do the same. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?!

I hate being the "nerd" of the family. No one enjoys what I like quite on the same level, and I feel like a social outcast.

I hate that my family can't stand my dad and feels it necessary to insult him behind his back.

I hate that I grew up with a bi-polar, mood-swinging, clinically depressed man as my father.

I hate that I seem to be the only one who excuses my dad's inexcusable behavior. 

I hate that I'm an idealist.

I hate that I was supposedly a happier, more confident person when I was a kid. I miss the old me.

I hate that my oldest brothers, who spent most of their lives not being close and finally got the chance, have now been torn apart and are more distant than ever. 

I hate that my twin brother started smoking in order to deal with his inner demons. I'm sorry to all you smokers out there, but that's just how I feel.

I hate that my mom is no longer the woman she once was and has mental breakdowns once a week.

I hate that my family is dysfunctional in the first place. 

I hate that I'm starting to cry while writing this.

I hate my life.