My mother used to ask me if I was happy - I am almost 22, so you can assume how much she asked - and I would always say that I didn't think about it, that I was satisfied with what I had but, somehow, I'd get angry every time she asked. Honestly, I don't know exactly what to be happy and sad is. I just grew up trying to understand people's reasons and that made me grow emphatic about others. My mother has been suffering from depression since a very young age, I know her whole story and, somehow, I ended up being a scapegoat of her traumas. She holds a lot of grudges on people who made her suffer and didn't value her and I could feel her rage every time she hit me - I was hit in such an impulsive and aggressive way that you wouldn't say she loves me, but I can assure you she does. Because I knew of her past, I would always find a reason for every act of violence she had on me (except when I deserved it, you know, they say kids ask for it at times, even if I don't agree with that kind of education); she would apology on her knees almost crying the whole ocean, she recognized that she was out of control and that I didn't deserve it, promising she wouldn't ever do it again, which was enough for me. She says that I would rub her face with my little hands as I said I knew she didn't do that on purpose and that I believed in her. As a child, I believed. She tried to disappear from my life thrice with letters laying on the kitchen's table, but I managed to find her with my father's help. Me and my father are very close and have our ways of showing our affection to people, we do it through actions while my mother does it through words and complains a lot about that. Why does she want us so much to tell her we love her if we show it everyday? We could say it but not feel it, I really value actions more than words because anyone can throw them at anyone, they're easy to say but not for me and my insecurities lay on that. I used to be that child who would smile like a fool, and I am still that child. People see me as an extrovert, they even stated that I have no problems. Oh man, being an extrovert means nothing, trust me. Most don't know my story because I don't know what and how to tell. I have tried, but I feel they didn't get it properly, that's why it feels so hard for me to express my feelings as I'm not afraid of being judged but misunderstood, which happened a lot in my life. Socially, I see and go through a lot of things that confuse me and have pushed me down a lot of times. I feel like most of people pretend to care but don't care actually, their curiosity is bigger than their genuine interest. Or maybe they were just educated to "be" gentle, which doesn't mean they actually are. They say words so easily that it ends up hurting more than it should and, I wonder what makes them believe that lies are better than truths as we'll end up suffering anyway. People seem more focused on being judgmental, dishonest and malicious than properly human. Most don't even accept themselves so they're not backfired. They tend to believe they know more about us and how we feel than ourselves. How come? I became someone who hardly trusts but who's easily trusted and I like that, somehow. I feel good when I take care of others more than myself, as if I had a reason to stay, but I wonder: how can I help someone if I can't even help myself? How can I help others if my ideals might be wrong? Plus! How can we judge what's wrong and right? I've honestly learned most through the pain but others might not. For me, we were made to believe we are meant to connect with others, which doesn't happen - genuinely, at least. I assume it's because of all this that I would get angry every time my mother asked if I was happy, because there was so much I believed that turned up being a lie and/or broken promises. I came to the point where I realized that my taste for alcohol and hallucinogenic drugs are not just curiosity but an escape. After all, I've decided to live as I am afraid of putting an end in my misery and, whoever is reading this, might be wondering "why?" after reading all of this, but as i said in other words: words are not the same of what one feels. This is not everything I have inside of me but I rather stop here. I understand how you felt, Jonghyun. After reading your letter, I understand even more. I'd like to listen everything you'd like us to know about you, the real you, the person you wanted us to know - in the future, when we meet. Please, take a proper rest now, you truly did well.