My miserable life makes theirs look like a comforting thought. Nobody is willing to solve a problem because they think it can't be solved because they think that I don't have the ability to solve it. Then because of my disease I can't find a sense of belonging. If nobody fixes my problem all I'll be is a bum who stays at homes, eats, sleeps, and shits and uses the computer. LIFE IS NOT FOR ME. What will it take for me to die?