You’re not really doing things if the reason you’re doing them isn’t because you want to. I never went to school, I had to go to school, or so was I told. You don’t go to work, you have to go to work, or so you’re told. Do you want to live, or do you want to survive? I feel like I’m surrounded by people who survive, but who don’t really live. Days are just accumulations of hours, each going by without caring if you’re OK with it or not, and they don’t have anything planned for you, you’re not invited to their cool parties. That’s why you have to try and live, even if it’s out of revenge on them, or to make them jealous. Of course they’re never going to care about you, or give you any kind of attention, but the magic of living is in the attempt, I guess.