My family is fucked. Thank the gods!

My family is fucked. Few caveats break my family’s impressive streak of failings. Six years into my life, my mom divorced my abusive, alcoholic, crack-addicted dad, whose presence is infrequent and dreaded. Driven mad by a lifetime of stress from parental and spousal abuse as well as raising four kids alone, my mom is depressed, anxious and lonely. My older brother, Jake, is currently working as a grunt at an arcade because he knew better than to finish his first semester of Community College. Luke and Cori, too often lumped together as the youngest siblings, are failing sophomore and freshman year of high school, respectively. That is, whenever Cori is not being hospitalized for bipolar disorder. And I’m a boy who likes to kiss other boys. Yeah, we’re fucked.

At least we have learned not to strive. The magazine's teachings fall on deaf ears ion our household, lost in the static between the animal droppings and the unwashed dishes, we are fortunate enough to have time to care about the what the fucking neighbors think about whom I fuck, or to try to be another ass hole man in a suit. No, thankfully, we don't have time for your shit.