I’ve always known that home wasn’t a place of comfort. It was just a house—a place where the air always felt thick with tension. My parents, both so consumed by their own demons, never seemed to notice or care about the child they brought into the world. My dad, drunk half the time, and my mom, too busy with her own bitterness to look up from her phone long enough to see me, made it clear I was just another inconvenience to them.

I’m 18 now, and I’ve been counting the days until I can leave. I’ve got a job at a diner—waitressing, mostly, and working late hours. The tips are okay, but not nearly enough to make any real progress. What really kills me is that my parents take half of what I earn. They say it’s for bills, for helping out with the house, but I know it’s just another way for them to hold me down. The money I do manage to keep doesn’t go far. After gas, food, and a few other basics, I’m left with almost nothing.

I can’t let that stop me, though. Every penny I manage to save feels like a victory, no matter how small. Sometimes, I skip meals or walk to work instead of using the bus just to save a few bucks. It’s hard, but I remind myself it’s all for a reason. I’m saving for the day I can finally leave—get my own apartment, away from this chaos, this constant weight on my shoulders.

It’s not just about the physical space. It’s about freedom. The idea of waking up without hearing my dad's drunken rants or my mom’s cold silence is what keeps megoing. Some nights, when I’m lying in bed, I close my eyes and picture my own little place—quiet, peaceful, mine. And even though it feels so far away, I know I can get there.

I’ve been working toward it for months now, stashing away what I can, planning my escape, and every step forward, no matter how small, is a step closer to being free.

i’m reaching out today for a bit of help from people that might understand my situation

anything helps and I gladly appreciate everyone’s help, I wish everyone a great and fulfilling day!