Yeah my parents:

explicitly told me they’re giving me nothing

told me they’d give my hypothetical grandchildren something because (and I cannot express to you enough that they explicitly stated this OUT LOUD WITH WORDS) that they would love the grandchildren more than me. My mother has talked to me at length about how she already likes these people that don’t exist more than me.

Are constantly critical of my appearance. When I tried to wear makeup as a child they didn’t want me to look “promiscuous” (because somehow using an SAT word makes it ok to tell your 10-year-old they look like a whore). My mother was constantly critical of how short clothing looked on me because I was so tall or how my chest looked in shirts because it was too big. Now that I’ve gotten those tits removed and I dress more masculine even though I never even really “came out” as anything because I just don’t care enough about gender that’s also not ok because I’m not acting my gender.

They don’t comfort me when I’m upset. They either tell me I’m upset about something stupid or say that I should be worried about more other things. I worked in Healthcare while in nursing school through the first half of COVID them graduated mid-pandemic and every time I’d mention stuff about how broken our Healthcare system is they’d want to have a “fun debate” about MAGA shit then make fun of me for getting emotional. One time I was sitting suicide watch because a guy kept ripping the ventilator mask off and begging me to let him die. The only thing that got him to keep it on was me summing up the plots of the last five books I read because after the first four hours I ran out of things to talk to him about to keep him distracted. Y’all. They thought my PTSD flashbacks were funny.

My parents are both rocket scientists but they’re not sending people to the moon or Mars. I don’t know how they reconcile a belief in Jesus with arms dealing but I’m pretty sure those dead Palestinian kids are paying for my nursing degree.

Anyway I unloaded the exact content of all those PTSD flashbacks on them, told them their voting choices were going to lead to them dying in a ditch full of maggots, then dumped all the shit my whole family talk behind each other’s backs in the groupchat and changed my phone number. Its been a year and I haven’t felt the need to drink since.

Love me? You don’t even like me. Die alone, assholes.