The last time I heard from any one in my family was over a month ago. You would think that someone would check in on the schizophrenic addict more than once a month, but no, not my family. I got a new cellphone the other day and posted the news on Facebook stating that I had a new phone number and to send me a message if anyone would like it. I got responses from a couple of friends, but not one person in my family. They’ve been on Facebook since I posted it, I know they have, some members of my family have been posting and conversing with each other. But not a goddamned one of them acknowledged my post or asked for my new phone number. No one has bothered to check in on me. I could be dead for all they know. They don’t fucking care. Everyone I have ever dated wonders where my intense fear of abandonment comes from. This is it right here. I’m 100 fucking miles away from them, and no one has thought to check on me. Despite my 3 suicide attempts, 2 hospitalizations, and 6 months of homelessness no one fucking cares enough to fucking check on me. If I were allowed to purchase a gun I’d get on a Greyhound, go to my mother’s house and blow my fucking brains out on her front lawn. Then, maybe then someone would fucking understand what the fuck I am going through. But then they probably wouldn’t even notice then either.
Why do I even try? Why do I still hold hope that things will be different this time? I could die tonight and no one would notice or care until the smell of my decaying body alerted someone. Forty-six years on this planet and no one would care if I died tonight. Nobody.