Really. Why? If I had just gotten rid of them, many of my current problems would be solved. But sadly, it is illegal. To just be free from them…oh, the joy. If I was a child of divorce, maybe it would be easy to sneak away from them without anyone noticing. But I’m not. And they both seems to want me to stay, while saying they don’t want me to stay. They want to control whether my room is clean or not, whether it is an oral agreement on a job or if I have every single details in writing, whether I can be up in the middle of the night, whether I am to breathe or not… I’m so tired of it. The hand that feeds is rarely the hand you long for the most. You want to be free. Human is free by nature. It is not by society.
I want to be on my own. Face all my problems myself. Fuck you dad, I’m not going to ask you for money if I ever get into trouble. I never thought I would. You just fucking assume it. Just like you fucking assumed I wanted your help to move out in the first place. Why the hell am I not allowed to do things and manage things and work things out on my own when there are so many thousand people out there which are allowed this pleasure? Why can I not try to see if I am smart enough, and rather crash and burn than be held back by somebody else? Isn’t it better to learn from your own mistakes, than make far worse ones to get to the point where you want to be? I even have the means to manage if, by any chance, my plan should fail to succeed. I know how to cope. Why the hell can’t I show you?
I’ve been laughed at for ten years now. At least. Ten years of them laughing at the idea of me moving out. Not because of the idea in itself most of the time, but because they think I won’t be able to do anything when I’m on my own. They don’t realize that the reason I usually don’t do things, is because it is not my place, my things or my order. I thereby feel scared as shit to do anything about it. For a long time, I hated cooking food because I was afraid I was using products they had planned to use for dinner or something else. And I was afraid of ruining their frying pan or something. Or the fear of accidentally burning the whole house down. Instead of being comforted that none of these things would happen, they laughed at how little I was cooking and how all I would ever make when I moved out was boiled noodle soup and microwave pizza. It won’t be.
So, really, why must it be illegal to kill your parents, when they are probably the ones that deserves it the most?