Society Treats Criminals Better Than Me

Society Prioritizes Criminals Over People Like Me

When I was a child, my abusers locked me in a basement. The walls, cold and suffocating, became my entire world. That darkness stripped away any sense of safety or worth, leaving me isolated and broken.

The experience crushed me, embedding a deep truth that I learned far too young: the world doesn’t care whether I live or die. Now, decades later, I find myself yearning for the very security and structure that once broke me. Living in this chaotic, indifferent world feels unbearable. Yet society, much like those who hurt me, continues to ignore my desperate cries for help.

Every day, I carry the crushing weight of my trauma. It presses down relentlessly, tightening its grip until I feel like I can’t breathe. My mind rages against itself, a constant war of guilt, fear, and despair. Each thought serves as a cruel reminder of the darkness I can’t seem to escape, no matter how hard I try.

Although I push forward, clinging to the hope that things might improve, the pain never truly eases. Sometimes, the idea of dying feels like the only way to stop this relentless suffering. It’s not that I want to die—because I don’t. I simply want the torment to stop. Yet the world refuses to offer the peace I need to survive, leaving me trapped in an endless cycle of pain.

Criminals Receive the Care I Desperately Need

Society seems to value criminals more than people like me. Prisoners—those who have taken lives, destroyed families, and inflicted harm—are given safety, care, and resources. They sleep in warm beds, eat regular meals, receive therapy, and live with structure and routine.

In these environments, they are provided with the stability I have begged for my entire life. Meanwhile, I remain here, left to fend for myself, battling a mind that has become its own prison.

I have done nothing wrong, yet society denies me the very things it provides to those who destroy. Each day, this cruel imbalance eats away at my already fragile sense of self. The message society sends is clear: I don’t matter.

That realization doesn’t just hurt—it devastates me. I’m left to wonder why I even bother to keep going when the world has made it so clear that my existence is irrelevant.

Society Refuses to Help People Like Me

No one seems to care about solutions for people who, like me, crave safety and confinement to heal. No one studies or invests in programs for individuals drowning in trauma, desperately needing stability to survive.

Instead, society funnels its resources into punishing and rehabilitating criminals while ignoring those of us who struggle in silence.

I never asked for this life. I didn’t choose to grow up in a basement, locked away from the world, or to endure years of abuse that stripped away my ability to feel safe. However, I am begging for a chance to heal—a space where I can feel secure and begin to rebuild.

Yet society continues to turn its back on me, offering nothing but indifference to my pain. Rather than help, people throw empty platitudes at me. They tell me to “fix myself” or “move on,” as if trauma can be erased by sheer force of will.

Each rejection stings, another reminder that the world doesn’t care whether I live or die.

Fighting Alone Leaves Me Exhausted

Every day, I force myself to get out of bed and keep going, but the truth is, I’m exhausted. The weight of my trauma leaves me drained, robbing me of both energy and hope. Even when I try to move forward, it feels like the battle never ends, as if the world has stacked the odds against me from the start.

At night, I imagine what it would feel like to finally be safe. I picture a place where the walls protect me from the chaos outside, where I can sleep without fear, and where someone genuinely cares about whether I exist.

Although that vision gives me a sliver of hope, it also feels heartbreakingly far away, like something I’ll never be able to reach. Screaming into a void that never answers is all I seem to do.

While society claims to care about mental health, its actions speak louder than its hollow words. People talk about awareness and change, but they refuse to create real solutions for those of us who need more than sympathy or slogans.

I Don’t Want to Die—But I Can’t Live Like This

I’m not asking for luxury or indulgence. All I want are the basics: safety, stability, and care. However, even these simple needs feel impossible to attain in a world that has abandoned me.

Society could easily provide these things, yet it chooses not to. Instead, it leaves people like me to crumble under the unbearable weight of our pain, pretending we don’t exist.

If anyone is listening, I need you to hear me. I don’t know how much longer I can keep fighting this battle alone. I need someone to see me, to acknowledge my pain, and to care enough to help.

Please, don’t let me keep screaming into the void. I am tired. I am broken. And I just want the pain to stop.

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