I want to give.

Once when I was a child, my parents scolded me and I had never felt the feeling of remorse, disgust, and hatred all at the same time. I decided that i would forever and ever, stay in my room and never leave. I packed two pieces of bread and put butter on each of them. One for dinner, and the next day whenever I was hungry. I stayed under the work table in my room crying for hours and finally I gave up.

I don't understand why it came rushing back to me, partially because this and that involves the same emotions. Sometimes I think the word family is an overstatement for the way my brother treats me.