I hate being mislead.
I hate being confused.
I hate that my mother is dead.
I hate that my brother is wasting away his life.
I hate that my father is unemotional.

Sometimes, I wish I were less emotional,
less worrisome,
less self-conscious.
Sometimes, I wish I were all the things
I am not.

Explore the world you live in.
Do not stop at the end.
Begin in the middle,
continue through the end, and
end where you begin.
Here, you will find yourself.
You will see a new beginning,
from which you can begin again.