My life has been in turmoil. My mental illness has been kicking my ass, and I stopped fighting back. I drive around every day. I do some DoorDashing sometimes. I’m stuck in my parents’ basement, where all I have is a mattress to sleep on.
At nighttime, I’m not really sleeping. I have dreams where I’m realizing stuff that happened to me, and I realize how it affected me. It’s like I’m living life in the past, constantly processing my trauma.
I’m not really living. I’m stuck with no way out. I’m addicted to cigarettes. All my extra money goes toward gas and cigarettes. I’m constantly asking my parents for money, and I’m 39 years old.
The only way out is to find something I enjoy doing, but I’ve been stuck on that since the age of 5, when my dad would get drunk and torture me by asking me, “What do I want to do with my life?” Like I had any clue. Ever since then, I’ve been trying to figure it out instead of doing stuff. It’s like my mind is gone in that aspect of life.
I’m going to try to go to Barnes & Noble and read books about history every day. But even that is hard because I get too excited about the stuff I’m learning and put the book down. This is what goes on inside the mind of a madman.









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