Anyway, hi. I'm not like a lot of other people I've seen, both on this site and others; I really had a pretty decent childhood, despite the fact that my parents were divorced (okay, a little traumatically) and my mother and grandfather fought; and, while my mother was physically abusive until I was actually taller than her, I still feel somewhat unjustified in having the negative feelings which I do. A lot of it probably stems from the fact that I was 'that kid' in school - Pretty smart, teachers loved me, had friends and mostly stayed in the library reading/on the computers playing Number Muncher and Oregon Trail. In eighth grade I had woodshop, where the teacher would call on kids and have them read their measurements out loud; guess who'd always had a problem doing math in their head? Yeah, so I started hiding out in the bathroom and reading paperbacks during that class, and eventually they actually called a conference with my mother, who was naturally pretty mad; I'm pretty sure the fact that I was obviously terrified of her is what had the principal recommend me for early graduation instead of any kind of punishment. I did a one-year stint at public high school, drifting through sans any real friends and not particularly bothered, and I almost went to Japan until I failed my math class (oddly, the teacher never seemed to noticed when I went to the bathroom, until I eventually just didn't go at all) and... Yeah, well, it wasn't a good time and I didn't go. I took the GED at 16 and passed with flying colors, and proceeded to not go to my first semester of college because my mom took the money my dad gave for school to buy a computer chair and maybe a TV or something. I still haven't told him about it to this day, and I haven't told anyone about the fact that I essentially failed the last several semesters I attended because I get sickly easily, sometimes for weeks at a time, and just couldn't manage to get those weeks back (although sometimes it was more that I couldn't afford a doctor and some instructors don't accept sick days without a note). My dad thinks I stopped going because I'm lazy, but I just couldn't take any more of his money (he was recently fired due to his back and wasn't exactly rich to start with) and flush it down the school's toilets. I spend most of my time sleeping and on the computer because during those times I can stop thinking about what an incredible clusterf*ck I've somehow created, and the worst part is I know it's really not that bad. A ton of other people go through much worse stuff than this and keep it together, and like I've been told, people who are less 'smart' than I am get jobs and pay bills like everyone, but I just can't bring myself to care any more than the bare minimum. I'm not satisfied with my life (then again, who is?) but I can't be bothered to do anything about it because I'm pretty sure it would just get messed up again. I've been jobless since March and can't find anything, partially because I have no real experience besides part-timing at the food court (as well as no credentials or even a high school diploma) and partially because, as our car recently died and I have few convenient bus-stops nearby, it takes a lot of work just to get to someplace that may or may not be hiring. Twenty-three years of my life has passed, more than half given how long I'm likely to live, and I'm existing in a state of constant desperation; I'm definitely out of shape and in poor health because I can't be *ssed to get out and so much as walk around the block, I'm often feeling sick because we can't afford food money and pay (most of) our bills, and I hate everybody I see on a regular basis (my mom, who has moved from verbal and physical abuse to passive-aggressive whining and a martyr complex; my ten-years-older-than-me stepdad who constantly makes cartoony sound-effects and talks in little kid voices; my continually-angry and hyper-critical younger sister who's a frustrated performer that constantly adds "At least I've got a job"; and my perpetually-disappointed pseudo-New Age vegetarian ex-cokehead dad) because if they say I have no real reason to be 'depressed or whatever' just one more time I'm going to brain them with the heavy candy-jar on our counter. (It's empty.) I realize I'm not the only one going through this situation, I just don't see how that's even remotely supposed to help me. I've been feeling this way since I was 15, by the way, but back when we actually had the money to do so my mom figured it was just a phase, because she doesn't believe in psychology. tl ; dr : I'm a probably-depressive gamer recluse who desperately wishes she lived in Japan, or some other place where "manic-depressive nerd recluse" is actually a recognized lifestyle. I'd hate my life and everyone in it except that would require more energy than I can apparently muster up at the moment. I would kill myself except I'm smart enough to do the research and have yet to find a reliable way of doing it quickly and painlessly with little/no room of error, and also: see 'too much work.' And I just started my 'time of the month,' so I'm much crankier and emotional than normal due to the cramps, which are either from hunger or my stupid female hormones. But I'd really like to be otherwise. Any advice is welcome.