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“I hate my life”, she said trying to catch my attention. “I hate my life, I slid my harms many times trying to end it, but I am still here. They say what you hate follows you. Life follows me.” Her voice was shaky and her eyes never left gazing the floor. “Life is hard!”, her tears preceded her. Love and hate are two different emotions packed in the same bag. They are the fabrication of the wobbling mind and crazy days. I once heard of the story of a hard working individual that life got him the wrong way. In one morning, moments after that he read his wife’s divorce note on the kitchen counter, he learned he was let go at the job. “I hate my life.” he was crying in the way home with his family picture in a box that he collected from the office desk.…