more to come...

This came as quite shock. My parents were moving, and in less than three weeks. Something you should know about me is that I’m pretty much a dead beat. I’m 24 years old, I have dropped out of multiple colleges and I work part-time at a grocery store, oh yeah, and I live with my parents who pay for my every expense. You can’t get more pathetic than my current situation. So to hear that my cushioned lifestyle was about to become non-existent, sent me almost catatonic. Oh yeah, and there is one more thing I forgot to add. My sister was getting married that coming Saturday and my mom and dad didn’t want her “special day” to be ruined by anything, so I had to keep this huge news a secret. This move was shockingly unexpected. We grew up in Rochester, my mom and dad moved six times 14 years, and finally settled in Rochester, where we have lived for the past 20 years, it is actually the longest either of my parents have ever lived anywhere, so to find out that they were abruptly ending the life they had created here broke my heart. And then I realized I didn’t fit into this equation.
“Shit, what the hell am I supposed to do now. Move to North Carolina where I don’t know anyone, yeah that will go over really well. Hanging out with my mom and dad all day, I’ll go insane!” I purged my thoughts to my best friend, who was the only one who could truly understand because just 10 months ago she had uprooted her whole life to move 2,000 miles away with her husband. I knew she would understand on multiple levels, she understood because she too lost her family when she moved (not in the “they died” kind of way, but in the “there’s 2,000 miles separating us and we are too cheap and poor to visit” kind of way). And she didn’t know anyone where she moved to, accept her husband, but how much time can you really spend with the same person before you get sick of them. Clearly I’m not meant to be married.
And now I’m faced with the dilemma of staying or going. If I go I can continue to mooch of my parents until I grow up and figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life, or I can stay and be forced to figure it out, or just get a full time job that I will inevitably hate and in the long term become more jaded than I already am because I made such poor choices in my youth. And then there was the hidden third option, start caring enough about my life to make something of it.
Oh, I forgot to tell you that along with being a pathetic, mooching, college drop out I am also socially and emotionally retarded. Heavy medication helps me to have somewhat normal functioning relationships, but still leaves me socially awkward and totally inept. All my friends are just weird as I am, well most of them; which is why we get along so well. And they have tolerance for my stupidity and complete lack of awareness of other people’s feelings. I had a team of therapists, psychologists and psychiatrists because I am so fucked up, Therapist, that’s what I called her because I never cared enough to learn anyone’s name, says that I don’t have a filter. Meaning I am the type of person who will say exactly what I am thinking with no regard for how other people will perceive me or react to what I’m saying. Pyschologist says I have no regard for my own life, which means I don’t care, literally I don’t possess the emotion of caring. I think that Psychologist is wrong because last year I got a cat, Kitty, and I loved Kitty, a lot, well sometimes. I had to give Kitty awaym, and that was sad, which shows that I care about stuff but Pyschologist says that I don't care about the right things.