Start arguing

“Well, if you wanted it done your way, maybe you should've!” you say irritably.

“Excuse me?” he turns, frowning, to face you.

“You heard me! I'm tired of you always having something negative to say about the things I do for you. Nothing is ever good enough!” you raise your voice.

“No son of mine is going to backtalk me like this. Who do you think you are?”

“I have just as much of a right to complain as you! I'm a fucking adult, and I'm tired of you treating me like a good-for-nothing child.”

Your father stands there with furrowed brow. He is seething, and you know you have went too far. “I keep a roof over your head, feed you, clothe you, and this is how you treat me? If you want to be so opinionated and independent, why don't you just leave?!”

“Maybe I will! I'm tired of this shit,” you growl.

“Well, it's settled. I'm giving you thirty days to get out. Ungrateful--”

“Fine! I'd rather live on the streets than go through this anymore,” you cut him off, and head to your dark room, slamming the door behind you.

This has been your only sanctuary for eighteen years. The black walls reflect the deep, dark hatred you have for most of humanity—the isolation—and even the hatred for oneself. You pace the floor, running your fingers through your hair. You wonder where you will go, but that does not really matter as long as you can go anywhere but here. With a heavy sigh you collapse into your gaming chair and slam the desk with your fists. “This is bullshit!” you curse. You hang your head and memories of all the mental anguish come flooding into your mind.

After a few moments you snap out of it and take a deep breath. There is no point dwelling on the inevitable. It was time for action, you think to yourself, as you wake your computer from its sleep. You immediately message your best friend, to vent, yes, but also to make plans. Thankfully she is like a second family to you, and she says it is possible for you to stay there for a while until you can figure out something more stable.

You begin browsing your other notifications, and spot one from your online mother. She is simply checking in on you, but you do not know if you should vent your heavy problems to her.