I was born with a life.
I was made for willingly to live.
As I'm getting older, I feel like I still don't know the reason why I lived.
Maybe I was forced to live.
To be honest, I don't want this life at all.
I never wanted to live.
Maybe if my parents asked me first if I want to live or not, I might be not living right now which I would be grateful.
Maybe if people warned me before about the outer world, I would be prepared.
Maybe if anyone ever told me when I was young that living isn't easy, I would probably know it by now.
I think I understand one thing.
I did this all for my parents.
Now I completely understand.
I lived to die.
I never meant to be alived.
If dying means I can help my family, I will do so without hesitation.
If this is my fate, I will do it. As long they wont starve.
I don't mind.
If killing myself would make someone alived, I would do it.
I think that is the purpose of my life.
I will die.
If this how my life ends, I don't mind.
As long they could survive.
I will be happy.
Goodbye.
