Happy fucking birthday

Happy fucking birthday to me. Never should have gotten out of bed today. Probably wouldn't have if the kidlet hadn't wanted to go to the movies with a friend.

Despite my asking them not to make any acknowledgement of today, my parents got me a birthday card. The borderline side of me is reading part of the message my mom wrote inside as an insult. It says "everybody's rooting for you or they wouldn't have done so much in the last year & a half". So much of what? My sisters and my friend Ms. B are the only ones that have really done a whole lot for me, and that didn't last long when they weren't seeing a prompt return on their investment.

Do my parents view letting me move back here so I have a roof over my head as some kind of sacrifice? Something they went out of their way to do? It's not as if they didn't have the room. It's a fucking 4 bedroom house & it was only the two of them here.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just not able to see it from their point of view. I know they've helped me out the last six months and not a day goes by that I don't feel guilty as hell for being here. Why am I reading that card as an insult? As if I'm going to owe them big time for their being there for their own daughter when she needed it most.

I fucking hate myself. I hate the way I think. I hate always questioning all the thoughts flooding through my head each day. I hate being afraid to say anything anymore because I feel I don't have a firm grasp on reality. I hate how my mind instantly turns something that is probably innocent into something completely negative. I hate feeling like everyone is against me, even though a part of me knows they want to help but just don't know what to do and they're just frustrated that I'm not improving at all.

Fuck fuck fuck...