I hate people, I have never stop hating them. Seriously, they make everything looks ugly, my life, my dreams and even myself. I sometimes wonder when I’m going to explode, either way, it’s gonna be awful.
They say you can’t choose your family, and that’s sad. I found out later that you can’t choose your friends, too. I always stick with the  wrong people and that’s proof  how much I’m lucky.
Death itself is not a choice, I have never felt that I’m ready to die. I still have this urge and curiosity for living. Maybe I need to be more sane so I can see that death is the right choice.