Bittersweet (But Mostly Bitter) Poem by Bragg Adocio

Bittersweet (but mostly bitter)

Is it bad if I say I hate my life? What am I supposed to think when everything I think of as a plus in my life right now is only temporary? People who are leaving, have left before, or probably will leave me in the end. Live together die alone, right?
Is it bad to say that, at times, I really wish I wasn't alive? Is it bad to say that I drive close to the divider and imagine swerving into oncoming traffic, or realizing my brakes don't work after coming onto the feeder road into a red light...... Is that bad?
Am I broken if I say that I walk around in thunderstorms and literally pray to God that I'd be struck by lightning? That I wish the person walking around the parking lot at night had a gun and wanted my cash? That I downed an entire bottle of pills once, and only got sick for a few days, that I stuck a fork into an open socket once and only got blown backwards.... That I was disappointed that my heart was still beating?
'but you have a comfortable life in a nice home with a nice family and friends and you're healthy, and, and...' etcetera, etcetera I've heard all that. Good job, you fell for the facade all families put up to keep people out of their business.
My entire life is a lie. I hate my life, I hate my job, I think about death daily and about how many ways i can inflict it. I grew up with my own brothers hating me, never knew my sisters, my entire family tearing themselves apart over drugs and drama, and I have to lie to every person I meet about who I am, who they are, where we're from, how I am, and what I'm feeling. I hate my family. I hate that they make me lie all the time. I hate that I even have to lie to a few of them about our own family tree. I hate them... The adults that put us through all this then make us hate eachother too, grow into our own little groups and tear ourselves apart. I even tried to kill a few of them in the not so distant past. And I can't say a few of them haven't tried to do the same to me.
And people from the outside looking in say I shouldn't complain, that things could be worse. Like you know the whole story! ! ? I don't even know everything this family has so many damn secrets! ! Oh, so because I'm not starving in Ethiopia I'm supposed to be content? Happy even! ? What if I tell them, 'well at least you aren't a POW being tortured for info you don't have! ' or 'at least you're alive and not burning in Hell! ' Like someone else's misfortune is supposed to make you feel any better about yours! ! ? All I want is someone to get this off my chest with but I can't find anyone because no one on the outside can say they'll be in my life long enough and those on the inside, well, Ive been entrusted to keep devastating information from them too.
Is there something wrong with me, if I say I never let myself be happy because I'm afraid it will be snatched away? Is there a screw loose in my head if I push away the only person i've ever truly loved because I'm scared that I'll disappoint her or that she'll leave me like the others, even though I want her more than anything?
Is there a problem with my mind if I'm happier knowing she can find someone better than me, someone who can satisfy her in ways I never can? That, I'm better off forgotten and alone than hindering someone else's life with my own selfish problems, and I don't need someone to talk to, because everyone I do talk to, will either not understand, or not give a damn? Is there something weird about that, or is it just how life is supposed to be?