My life is great. I’m 24 living with my parents. Oh, sure, I could move out. If I went and lost my fulltime status in order to get a second and even third job. Have no energy to do any of them. Have no time to sleep. No time for myself or my writing. Nothing. And forget the fact that I have a mental illness. B does it with her mental illness. So obviously everybody can do it. I’m just spoiled, that’s all. And childish. I need to put on my big girl pants and break my back to move out.
I am so mad right now, you have no idea. Just because I have a bit of a coushie life doesn’t mean I don’t have real problems. Yes, I live with my parents. Because I’m drowned in student debt and a shopping addiction, among my other issues with depression. I literally and incapable of moving out right now. And most people my age ARE still with their parents these days. It’s called a SUCKY-ASS ECONOMY! Many people my age are just as drowned in student debt as I am and can’t afford to move out. Esp with apt prices the way they are. Even bad apartments cost about as much–if not more–than our monthly student bills. And what kind of jobs do you think we have with our hard-earned degrees? Flippin’ burgers.
I have depression. Because of that, I have no control over myself. I can’t keep my room/car nice and neat and organized. I can’t control my spending. I try. Dear God, do I try. But no one believes me because I fail at it. I struggle to care enough. ‘Cause I just don’t. Why bother? What’s the point?
Yes, it is their house. But that doesn’t give my dad the right to just take all my shit and throw it in the garage. That’s MY shit. And I actually USE that shit!