At this moment, this very minute I'm ashame to say that I'm broken. And I don't know how to fix myself, I don't know how to fix this. I'm losing my humanity, I'm losing my fucking mind. I can't feel anymore. I tell myself I don't care and that this too, like the many others will pass and that everything will be okay. But the truth is, we all know it never gets better or rather it never got better. We forced ourselves to believe that nothing really fell apart in the first place because its always easier to assume that bad things never happened. I do that. I run away from the truth, I run away from the pain, I run away from the fact that my whole family is build on a fucking lie. I lie. I pretend. I pretend I'm fine with it and to be honest, I'm good at it, so good to the point that I believe myself when I say I'm fine because I block it all. I block it all out. All the fights, the tears, the shouting, the separation, the selfishness... I block it all out, and my life becomes better for awhile. But now I'm worried that I've grown so detached that I'm losing the pain that I always feel and to be fair, should feel when it happens again, when THEY happen again. The same pain I've lived with since the earliest memories I have as a child. The pain which I've learned to bury so deep to the extent that I don't remember experiencing it. But is this right? Is this right at all? Is it right to choose happiness over reality? Is it right to not feel this pain? Because when I allow myself to feel it, I don't feel anything. I don't react to the usuals like before. I become stoned, rock-hearted and nonchalant to what used to easily bring me to tears and I just move on with life like it never happened and that I honestly don't care. Is it right then? Is it right to not feel at all? And does not feeling equate to not caring? I find myself scary. I scare myself. I'm a bad person. I don't care. I don't fucking care. And just a few minutes ago I tried; I tried searching for the pain, I need to prove that I'm still human and that I'm still capable of feeling. I sat down in front of the computer, googled 'family quotes' and looked at chunks and chunks of heartwarming family quotes. I tried to think of the happy times and by default my memory picks up the most horrific scenes, it always does that. Normally, I just don't think about it but this time I dig deeper and deeper into it. I was searching for something I know I didn't want, I was searching for something I used to have but have chosen to exterminate. I was searching and searching, digging and digging and then it hit me. That pain. Like tsunami, it hit me hard. And I started crying. I never cried because of this when I'm away from home, never; and for this first time in a long time, I cried for the pain, I cried for my family and I cried for my own pathetic self and about how broken I truly am. I was right, the pain was better buried cause it fucking hurts and it takes fucking long to feel again as well. So what do I do now? Where do I go from here? I need this pain to stay human but its too hard to bear, too hard to face and too hard to live with. My whole life build on a lie. My whole life build on a belief that everything is going to be okay when we all knew it was never gonna be from the very beginning. My whole life is build on a lie. A fucking lie called Family.