Why am I alive? Why do I have to go on living? I hated my parents, hated my family. I really hated all of it. I remember clearly thinking this is it, family is the root of all suffering. I told myself I’d live my whole life without a family, dying single and alone. I seriously thought I’d do it, too. But look at me. I got married, had a kid. Got all wrapped up in other people’s lives. Haha. I’m attached to this person who never really had anything to do with me, and now he’s all depressed, not that we ever had anything in common, and I have to look after him, take all of his family’s crap
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