A novel wrote that if a person really had to seek for help from others, s/he would have died while waiting.
It was striking when I read, but sadly it has repeated so frequently that there will no be otherwise. After all, the only one who can save me is myself. There is no alternative at all. It does not mean someone has to be blamed on this, but it is only my fault if I look for aids, since no one is responsible for anything about myself.
Life is not a tragedy, just that it is not a joy at all. And if I were to explain the story, it would only have ended up a joke that is not funny. Silence is gold.
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