On Friday evening my mom sent me $30 to buy products until the end of month. I’ve spent 1/3 of that amount in supermarket. Five minutes ago I’ve lost the remaining money I had to gambling. I want to kill myself.
I’ve never ever said to my parents about my addiction. It started even before they got divorced. A lot of time had passed since then. My life was never truly satisfying. My only so-called joy was the form of escapism called videogames. You can say I’m young, haven’t seen anything. That I have a whole life ahead of me. I don’t want to live a life like that. Constant mental suffering and, to save at least some of the nerve cells, escaping reality. And then gambling, a mental illness that keeps destroying them all the same, and, as a result, destroys my life.
I have no perspective ahead of me. Born in a shithole country sanctioned to hell, with a fear of conscription. Even if I find a job, that would be stuff I mentioned like delivery-whatever with little-to-no pay, not enough even for renting a room. Not to mention going abroad, like, I can dream all day and night, it’s not gonna happen. I was born here and will die here. A pathetic fate.
I’m at the fourth year of university. What do you think I study? Computer f**king science. I wanted to be a programmer. Jokes on my seven-years ago self, a little child that wanted to be a “cool-hacker”. Not quite like that, but you get the point. My father has paid for programming courses for three years. I liked them. All the time and money my parents spent on me. All their love they put into me. Was it all for nothing? Isn’t that crazy?