After everything I've been through, I can imagine the amount of hurt my mom must have dealt with knowing my father never loved her and especially when she was carrying me.

　　I lay sadly under a tree in the hopes when I returned he would be gone by then. Knowing the person he is I didn't want to see his face again, ever. I began to wish he was truly dead and my mom was the one living.

　　Why do the bad ones live longer and the good ones die so fast? I couldn't help ...