Lỗi - Error 404 English Translation

Phần 1 (T6-11)

When you go to a psychiatrist, the first question the doctor asks you is always: "Does anyone in your family have a history of depression?"

I used to make a lot of theories about this - about  why is this sentence and why is it always the first - from "a relative", or "being afraid of having no one who gives money to the doctor while patient is being treated", or simply following  In alphabetical order, this question will appear first ... But in conclusion, sometimes the doctor will ask that so only next time you go out to meet someone who is likely the "crazy person"'s family, he can avoid them.  This will keep away from the work torn.  (I think that is lucid.)

And I always say, "Depression, you don't know, but everyone seems unbearable." Because it's true.  

After that, the doctors always looked at me with a eyes different from those a few seconds ago.  The eyes, not knowing how to describe it, it was both suspicious and disturbing, and they just seemed happy to ask each and every question to know where this bug was.  

My family has three children, one mother and one father.  

Children with depression, more than 75% are from divorced parents' families.  My sin is very big, in a family with both parents but still suffer.  Even 92% of children who have attempted suicide are from divorced parents.  So wherever I go, I can be proud of myself as the rare remaining 8% from a normal home. 

Once upon a time, I read a sentence that I liked very much: "If you kill your parents, the most common mistake is still from your parents." 

Most often, when you see someone with a mental problem, you often think of the family of the first mentally ill person: "Oh my god, where are his parents?". Or, "The family must be very miserable, it must be hard for the family!" ", or" I wonder if anyone else has this problem anymore? " ... Genetics are, of course, an indispensable element in forming a human, so obviously it bears a lot of responsibility. I like that, thinking that maybe when I was born with errors and my parents are the blame, but madness was miserable. Knowing that I was mad was miserable, knowing if I was driving myself crazy, suicide was right. 

My mother always had her own way of showing love. My sister is mummy's girl, and my brother is daddy's boy. I know my mother is the most worried about me, because she always tells me, "I do not allow you to play with your brother, he's just waiting for me to die and take all the inheritance." I know mom remembers my birthday because i receive an envelope every year. Hundreds and thousands of Dongs sealed together as if it was from my homeroom teacher. 

I know that Mom always encouraged me to study, but I did not pay much attention to school and class, because for ten years I had been going to meetings with my maids, but I got slapped on when I didn't do well in school. My mother also told me to keep a notebook and she said: "write down all your sins here, until I die, you read them again and again and regret it." It is true that every mother loves her child and loves her even for the rest of her life. 

My father is a person whom my whole childhood memory with him is the image of his legs sticking out from an attic. Every day I come from from school, i still see my dad persistently lying there in his pajamas watching TV, not knowing which movie he watches that lasts 10 years long. The girls at the market often say that my father is a talented artist, an actor, and a well-known family, but he lives a simple and peaceful life. I don't know if dad is gentle, but when i was often beaten by mom, he just closes the door to the balcony to smoke, so he must be really gentle. 

If I imagine my mother being the image of the conductor conducting the symphony orchestra, my father would be the most loyal audience. 

There is one thing about my father that is very good, that he took his daughter from alcohol to the next level. I was told that when I was three months old, I drank beer with dad every meal. Three months old, standing in a walker, mouth covered with white foam. Later, all the memories that I remember about me and my father, later my brother, were when we were having a cup, and we talked honestly about what we really meant and somehow he disappeared while he was awake. 

Back in the days, I was the richest in Hanoi. I was too young to understand how rich I was, but i was told that every single day in 1994, a whole bunch of money was spent for diapers. I was privileged, and I knew how to use that. At preschool, there was a doll that everyone liked, that everyone fought to play with, so I went to buy two identical ones at home. Sometimes for lunch time, i helped them sit up next to me. I have no friends, so I bought them all. I sometimes gift people with cute Japanese pencils, comic books so that they could sit with me. 

There was a year when I was six years old when I returned, I came back home from dance, and it was getting dark so I could not go to lantern walking near home. There was nothing exciting about it, but why was I so miserable then, thinking about me having to work hard for a whole year and I couldn't play every day. I did not dare ask my parents that I wanted to play with the "uneducated children" outside as they would give me a blow immediately. I waited until my parents went to sleep and sat up to cry for relief. At that moment, I heard the drums of the trumpet. Looking out at the balcony, I saw the lion dance. When i opened the door, climbed outside to call out to them frantically, no one answered and i didn't want the lion dance crew to go at all. The lion dance troop takes money from the neighbors' offerings, so i crept into the room, opened my closet, took my savings box, ran out, and started dropping money from the balcony, down from the second floor. They obviously saw the money dropping down, and when I started to dance, I felt like resting and dropping more money and saying, "Don't go, don't go." When I fell asleep, I didn't know it, and the next morning when the alarm for school went off, I still sat on my balcony hugging knees, my nose was blocked, the one- and two-thousand-Dong  in my hand.