When will this end

No one will ever understand the deep sorrow I feel towards my family. No one will grasp the profound hatred I have for each and every member of my family without exception. Whenever I confide in friends, they dismiss my feelings with the usual phrases like, "but they're still your family," or "he's still your brother." Or I talk to friends who’ve never faced any issues with their families, the privileged ones whose parents buy them apartments and cars, and they tell me to "leave your family," "run away," "find a psychologist or a sugar daddy and live off their money." And when I find someone who seems to understand, they try to compare their problems to mine. I will never find peace within myself.

My family doesn't believe in depression or any of the so-called nonsense humans have invented. They have no idea that I endure a silent depression, that dark thoughts overwhelm my mind, that nightmares consume me night after night. No one will ever understand this.

I've faced all the horrors a family can inflict: verbal and physical abuse, sexual assault, belittlement, mockery—everything you can imagine.

I have always been the most well-behaved, the most studious girl, the one destined to become a doctor, the one who would bring good reputation to her parents. But I was never their daughter, just the girl who would honor them and give them a good title.