Even then, I'm always asking myself if I did something wrong with my life and why do I deserve to be here. 18 years of dealing with all the bullshit, trying to tell myself that I'm not supposed to feel this way. I thought 18 years were enough, but clearly I was wrong. At an early age, I've been writing hate letters because of my rage and frustrations that are welling inside me. I tried to fight them. I hate it. I hate it because I'm not supposed to feel that way, but as the years go by, the more harder it is to fought through the haze. I want to love. I want to understand. I'm doing my best to understand, to cope, in my own way. It's just, I'm getting tired. Of fighting. Of understanding. So help me God.