What is wrong about me.

I'm sorry I haven't posted in awhile. I've been so frustrated lately, as everyone that sleeps under the roof as me has been trying to figure out what is wrong with me. 

That's not how it works: Look for the wrong, to make their child right. Maybe we could beat the wrong out of him with a stick made out of ignorance, condescending attitude, and the absence of good parenting.

Makes sense, right? 

I hope I don't turn into such a monster when I'm a parent. It's not even the direct things they do, it's the culmination of turning their head the other way and not treating me like I belong in this world.

I've apparently been demoted to the heap of flesh that just eats all their food and sleeps and argues and plays his music too loud and is the source of every problem in this house. Don't forget I'm too unintelligent and mindless to think otherwise though.

In their position, they made the obvious decision to send their "trouble child" to a therapist. Among many things I gained from that appointment, a few stood out to me.

- Not all therapists are crazy psychotic whack-jobs who belong in asylum. In fact, they can be really chill.

- I have no home to go to. There is nowhere for me to fall back on.

- He diagnosed me with  Dysthymic Disorder. Look it up if you really care to know whats wrong with me.

My concern was, now that my parents proved there is something wrong with me, is that the best step to making it right? If not they can always fall back on plan B, beating the bad out of me so only good will be left behind. Logical, I know.

Perhaps all parents at some point go through a mandatory brainwashing to force them to think and treat their offspring and non-adults differently. Maybe when the first child is born they make the parents lose all reasonable feelings and critical thinking skills towards their children by means of some diabolical machine.

(Nelson, please tell me how you avoided being hooked up to that machine, because you're different when it comes to being an adult. I don't want to be an ignorant person. I need to keep my insolence. It keeps me alive) 



All I want is for someone to prove there is something right about me, that I have purpose in this world. And for someone to provide a home. No, not a place to sleep, but a place where the heart longs to be. A place of comfort. People always say they want to run away, to move out. There has to be a place I belong to before I have a place to leave.

There needs a place where what I do right is celebrated.

Because right now I don't have a home.

And that scares me.

-Insolence is Bliss