Sometimes I feel like a dog being fed.

 Sometimes I feel like a dog being fed. People simply put food in front of me and leave. They don’t even do it so that my stomach will be full; they do it just so they can relax and go back to themselves. And the only reason they get angry and glare at me when I don’t eat is this: because in their eyes I am a being that has lost its humanity—or rather, was never human to begin with—and naturally they react that way only because they haven’t been able to get rid of me, not because I’m hungry. It’s like they feed me out of obligation, as if I were an animal they were forced to adopt. Sometimes, for this reason alone, I wonder why the thing called “family” even exists, and I can’t explain why they fed me in the first place. It’s as if my family exists only to feed and clothe me, and I can’t even expect anything beyond that, because that’s how the concept of family has settled in my mind. Because why would someone pour money into a child for a lifetime, especially without showing any love? Why did they create such an obligation for themselves? A momentary hormonal interaction for a brief time produced an unwanted life for an entire existence, but why?