I believe everyone bears some sort of curse. Often others would call it bad luck. The thing is, such things don't exist in probability— it just plainly exists. Living in itself is not a curse, but what envelops this so-called life is a mixture of ups and down; blessing and curse; yin and yang. For me, the bearing I had to carry is the bearing of my family. Sometimes I wonder the paradox. As far as I could remember my parents wanted to have a child but now that they have one, they act as if I am some sort of ill misfortune; an uncalled for material. Maybe everything that I thought of is a lie. Everyone doesn't bear some sort of curse. I am just cursed. Whether this fact is true or not. I know one thing: life would continue; therefore, so should I.