I love my parents dearly. But they insists on telling me how to live my life. MY life. As if I owe them. Nonexistence was a million times better than existing in a conscious and sentient body.
I’m not saying I don’t wish I were alive. I’m saying that, if I was given a choice, I would choose nonexistence rather than deal with everything I have dealt with in my life. Watching the news is a painful experience for me. Empathizing with a best friend who was a victim of child abuse in high school may have driven me to cause my severe “accident” in 2011.
Nonexistence was beautiful. I had no concept of the horrors which exist in this world. Indeed, I did not exist, and so I could not empathize with horrors which are continually occurring. Now, I can and do. This contributes to my poor mental health.
Now, am taking over five medications which help me cope with the horrors of reality. They assist me in burying the emotions which come with empathizing with the suffering of others. Yet, reality remains intact, and so I always come back to empathizing with the less fortunate.
So much suffering can be avoided by not existing. I love my unborn children so much that I can not stand them suffering in any way. Therefor, I am making the choice to allow them to remain in the peaceful state of nonexistence.
*This is my perspective. I am in no way blaming parents. Having one or more children can be a wonderful thing for some people.
Things We Forget 
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