My family left me at a homeless shelter. If the location had neither waiting list nor called my parents back, I would've been abandoned. My family disowns me: they cast me off for "choosing" to be lethargic, flat-affected, anhedonic, etc.
So why not kill myself? Any symptom of my condition is demonized as an implicit and willful prompt to have my own family throw me away as unwanted garbage. Then they tell me afterwards "they love me," though they only came to recollect this trash they had already deemed unrecyclable because the shelter wouldn't have me! As though I could ever love them in turn anymore, having gaslit and victim-blamed me too many times to count?!
How can someone choose both to beget a child and to cast them off abandoned? And yet they maintain the lie of "unconditional love for me". Of what worth is a life saturated with the bitterness of such events; or, of what worthlessness is a death free from the duplicity of such a love?