If Only....I have felt this way for as long as I can remember. I can recall at the age of 4 asking my mother why she had me. She just got angry and told me I was stupid. She got angry not because of the questions content, she did not care how I felt, she was mad because I was questioning her as a mother. She always liked everyone to know she was a "good" mother.
I found out when I was 7 that I had had a twin, a boy. He was still born. My brother would tell me: "I wish I had had a gun and go back so I could kill you and save my brother." I would just look at him and say "me too". He thought it was some tactic of mine to make him stop saying it but, it wasn't. I meant it each and every time I said it.
I still feel it now. I often wonder if my twin would have made better use of his life then I have with mine. I suspect he would have.
In the darkest parts of my life, when I feel death's warm hand resting so gently on my shoulder, I wish I didn't have to chose to die. But, I don't die, I cant. I hate myself too much to fall softly into death's loving embrace. I stay alive because my life is a crime it is also my punishment.
I am alive because, I am.