Depressed?

This is not exactly gay-related, but I feel like my experience could really only be understood by other gay people.So I guess I always knew I was gay, and I came out pretty early on, though it still felt like I had waited forever. I had only told some of my friends at first — no family. I had an easy-enough time at school. Nobody ever really gave me any shit and coming out was a breeze. That is, until my mom found out by reading it in my journal. Without going into much detail, we became one of those church families. I started going to therapy which wasn’t EXACTLY conversion therapy but they were basically trying to “talk me out of it.” When it wasn’t working (obviously) my dad tried to make me sleep with this kind-of prostitute he knew.At the time, yes it was pretty traumatic, but I handled it. This was when I started messing around with drugs. But I really wasn’t using to cope. I would just justify it that way when I got caught. Nothing crazy, just weed and whatever leftovers I could find in my friends’ medicine cabinets and stuff. I wasn’t allowed to have friends of any gender because they were all supposedly corrupting me and I was never allowed to leave the house. I wasn’t allowed to have a phone or a computer because these were all tools for me to contact “the exterior” (my mom would really say these things) and I wasn’t even allowed to have a doorknob. So my pharmaceutical experiments became my only escape and I think maybe around this time was when I started to equate drugs with freedom. I wasn’t using all the time or anything, but I lived for these experiences and honestly not much else. When my mom found out about this I had to switch school and start all over again, which, again, wasn’t too hard but it did affect me.I was kind of a weird kid. I really had no idea who I was and I would just act in whatever made more people like me. I lied a lot and I would believe my own lies. Pretty much everything I ever said to everyone around me was now a lie. I got so used to it I would do it without thinking. Well this and a slew of other issues has followed me into adulthood and I feel like my life is already ruined.Now, my mom has since gotten over it (she found out 10 years ago, finally got over it at about 19) and my dad very recently let me know that he’s over it too but this is all many years and many more fights later. All the damage is done.On top of all this, my self-esteem in the dating world is absolute trash. I’m a decent-looking guy but nothing remarkable and nothing worth breaking neck for. I look at these guys and I’m both interested and horribly deeply ashamed. I want to look like them but also be with them. They are the competition AND the “prize,” but none of them are looking at me anyway. And anyway I’m hiding another terrible secret. I have genital warts and it has made everything so hard.I finally met a guy I fell in love with who became my boyfriend and who now lives with me, but I still crave attention from other guys and so does he (we’re honest with each other about this, and have occasionally indulged in our own) and even though I want it too it makes me jealous and miserable.The other big thing is the drugs. The only thing I do every day is smoke weed, so I guess I’m addicted to that, but otherwise I’m just addicted to being on some kind of buzz. Even if it’s a mild caffeine rush or hitting my vape, but I’ve gone as far as heroin (surprisingly with no mishaps) though I have never used it again. I just love drugs. Not only from an enthusiast’s perspective but from a scientific perspective. I can talk about chemistry and toxicity and tolerance and effects for hours. I find it all fascinating, but my boyfriend doesn’t think exactly the way I do and my use worries him. I lie to him about drugs a lot and he’s caught me a few times with coke, ecstasy, acid. We’ve gotten into a couple of fights over the coke (which I don’t even like but I occasionally get it for free as a tip at the bar). Again, none of this happens with any like significant frequency, but I’m lying about it anyway because i don’t want to hurt/disappoint him or give him the idea that I’m some crackhead.I don’t even know where I’m going with this or if I’m even really looking for advice. I just feel so sad and misunderstood all the time, but talking about my feelings is hard because I’m sensitive and defensive as hell about all this. I want to get help but I’m kinda broke and I honestly have no idea how to bring it up.I just hate feeling so alone especially when there are people all around me and a boyfriend who loves me by my side.