I looked in the mirror, and all the ungroomed hair that covered my head and face couldn’t hide who I was, and it couldn’t hide the resemblance to my two uncles.
I used to think that something went wrong somewhere, and it led me to this. But I’m starting to see that this man in front of me is exactly how the child I was could grow.
An average of two extremes, but even every commendable achievement was earned for the wrong reasons.
I was terrified of becoming like my uncle, of quitting everything I have and simply living to die.
Then I remembered what my grandfather said.
Yes, I may avoid my uncle’s life, but it is equally terrifying to live a difficult life only to provide an excuse. It is equally terrifying to punish myself for their evil genes.
As if I was born undeserving of life that the meaning of my life became to justify it.
As if the limit of my life’s meaning is to push myself as far away from the evil extreme, so that the likes of my grandfather can describe me as “OK.”
Grandfather, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I want you to know that I have never hated anyone in my life as much as I hate you today.