A little bit into the afternoon, 20 years ago today, my father died. I hated him a lot. I still do. I can never forgive him, let alone forget what he did to me. But the worst part is that I cannot forgive myself. I tried to have compassion for the child that I was then, 40 years ago, but I can’t. Or maybe I don’t understand why. I believe that I am a defect, that I was born bad. My father never loved me and he despised me for not being good. Problem is he made me like that and it is difficult to admit failure. He never did. But he hated me. Now I am 46 and I struggle with connecting to people. I am convinced I was to made for it. And because connection is the purpose of life, not being able to do it means that I am dead. I thought a lot about suicide but it seems it has consequences. And I don’t mean “those who love us will miss us” bullshit. On the upside, I believe some resources will be released and some time will be saved, so everyone wins. Well, not e everyone, but I was born a mistake and a looser so it really doesn’t matter.

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