I should be sad that I’m leaving Indonesia and my brother and his new family. But all I have is hate and anger for my mom, hate and anger for myself for being angry at her, and just thoughts of cutting my wrists and letting the pain flow from my body. None of my training is helping me. Why am I such a bad son? Why can’t I help and take care of someone that doesn’t want to take care of themselves. Why can’t I find the answers, or am I just blind to the answers, or refusing the answers. Why isn’t my death the solution.