"Now I'm of consenting age to be forgetting you in a cabaret. Somewhere downtown where a burlesque queen may even ask my name. As she sheds her skin on stage, I'm seated and sweating to a dance song on the club's P.A. The strip joint veteran sits two away, smirking between dignified sips of his dignified peach and lime daiquiri."

At the moment I'm listening to "But it's better if you do - Panic! At the Disco".

This week has been pretty tough. I'm feeling like a little kid lost in a big supermarket. I feel like my parents don't care for me, don't acknowledge my efforts, don't understand my life, and don't realise I'm lost.

I have had 2 quite major anxiety attacks this week. I haven't had an anxiety or panic attack in a very long time. It was pretty horrible. Couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move or stop shaking. I guess sometimes things just get a little too much for my body to handle, so that's what it does to handle the pain.

All week I have don't nothing besides cleaning the house for mum and making sure everything is nice in the house. Since my dad is an absolute misogynistic, sexist, unhelpful, and lazy pig, he always believes that my mum will do all the cooking, cleaning, and housework. He's very traditional in that sense, and it ducking disgusts me. Mum also hates it. He does absolutely nothing for this family besides providing us with money.

So since my mum has been interstate for work for the last week, I have been in change of being the "housewife" (but don't get me wrong, I do enjoy cooking and sometimes cleaning). I don't really have a problem of cleaning up mess if it's MINE, but when I have to constantly, day after day, clean the house spotless, go to bed, then wake up to find out that it's filthy, it really fucking sucks. My dad really needs to fucking help around the house instead of coming home with his dirty, muddy boots on and leaving a trail on my perfectly mopped floor, then expecting dinner on his fucking lap whilst he watches TV without even saying hello to me.

I'm used to dad being a cunt, but I'm mostly upset at mum tonight for screaming at me for not doing the 3 tiny dishes left in the sink after dinner (which she actually forgot to make for me because she was SO focused on making dads perfect dinner. Do I even exists?). All she does is complain that I don't help out around the house, and that fucking hurts. She didn't even acknowledge the effort I put in to making the house look nice, or even thank me for washing all her dirty clothes over the past week. I'm used to feeling invisible from dad, but definitely not from mum.

Is it normal to be constantly visualising how wonderful life would be if I moved out? If only I had the money, I'd do it in a fucking heart beat.