riyah

tw// drugs, mention of death, just overall unpleasant feelings 

ah will you look at that, another diary entry bc my life is complete shit rn. i promise i'll actually get to writing a story...just when im in a better place mentally and literally. 

since i am treating this site as a public diary (though I'm 99% sure no one has even come across this) might as well go into the nitty-gritty details of my life. i will probably—no most definitely— regret bearing my broken soul to strangers on the internet, but currently, i could care less. at this point in my life, i will just straight-up sob in public. i have gone past caring or frankly giving a fuck. 

ok that's enough of an intro. let's just go right in what aspired the past month and why im honestly halfway into the grave. that comes off jokingly but with coping humor, there’s always truth behind it. 

my father has A LOT of health issues. so that's why its not that strange for him to end up in the hospital for a couple of days every year or so. and well that happened again this month. but something about this time...just was different. made me more anxious, more scared. maybe because of covid or maybe it was just the ptsd of the last time my family member was in the hospital they ended up dying. i just know i was freaking tf out even though I tried to not show it. i guess i didn't do a good enough job of that because my older brother seemed to notice and started looking out for me more. i.e. making sure i eat, texting to check up when he’s at work, comforting me with "he’s going to be okay" speeches. what a lovely brother, right? 

now back to my dad. he was in the hospital for about 6 days—turns out he was bleeding internally—and he finally gets to come home at 2 or 3 in the morning. and well that joy and relief quickly left because i woke up hours later to screaming and banging. 

turns out all the while my dearest brother was playing the "nice and supportive" older brother role. he drove all the way to my dad's hospital, found his car in the parking lot and proceeded to break open the glove box and steal my dad's prescription medicine. medicine that my father needs to fucking live. 

and when presented with this, what does he do? he gets right in my dad's face and tells him to "gtf outta my house" before punching a wall because oh hes a manly man. 

i told my dad to file a police report because i don't care whether he’s "blood" or not, he needs to be punished for that. i mean, that's a fucking felony. but my dad is refusing too and the doctors won’t give him a refill so looks like im just going to have to wait for him to end up being in the fucking hospital on the verge of a heart attack to get it. so yeah. that's one stressor. 

and then back to my brother. he had decided to just give my dad, my sister, and i the silent treatment because somehow we're the people in the wrong here. won’t even apologize or anything. though he didn't deny it either so...

as you can imagine the atmosphere of the house is hmmm how do you say?? tense, livid, awkward, anxious, and just a hint of sadness. and to think most of those emotions are coming straight from me. my brother doesn't even have the decency to act ashamed. he’s just going about his freaking businesses without a care. 

and that's why im moving :) with no plan nor money and two cats and in the middle of a pandemic.  it's just fantastic !! 

and then number 3 stressor because life was like hey see this girl who is laying in the middle of the street after getting hit by a semi, yeah let's just throw something out of the sky on top of her for good measure. my brother came into contact with someone who has covid —and a very bad case might i add—and now there is a high possibility my at high-risk dad has it. but you know what my brother clearly doesn't care about my dads life so im not that surprised.

so my life is just freaking peachy. 

i seriously can’t handle one more setback. and i don’t know what I'll do when my dad has a fucking heart attack because my selfish drug addict of a brother took all 20 fucking pills of his medicine. 

I know other people have it far worse. I know that—trust me. ive been telling myself all week "at least you have pets. at least you have running water. at least you haven't been physically harmed ". but im just a week person. this is all too much for me to handle. all too fast; all happening at once. i can't. 

i have bad anxiety generally. but for the first time i was physically sick from it. i spent 10 minutes dry heaving in the car on the morning of the "fight" or whatever tf you call it. i feel like im going to pass out and feeling this unwell at this time is no bueno because now im worrying these might be symptoms of covid. 

so yeah im not sure where to close this off at. i wish I could just be like "oh my brother tested negative! my dad got a refill and i have a permanent place to live!!" but that will most likely not happen. but hey, since imo life has been shit to me since 4 yrs old with constant bad news maybe the whatever you believe in will take pity on me and make things easier. but I doubt it. 

anyways i guess this is goodbye. if my dad does somehow get the medicine without having a health emergency maybe i can focus on writing bc i am currently in 3 major brainrots. 

and if he doesn't...well I don’t know what ill do.