When do I stop?

Why am I here when my wife is already dead? Why can't I just kill myself and escape this empty world? Only because I have two sons who cannot take care of themselves as yet. Will I kill myself when they don't need me anymore? Maybe. Do I want to die? Maybe. As far as I remember, I always had a kind of lethargy about this thing called living. I always felt as if I made a wrong step into a room where I was not supposed to enter. It was maybe an ominous feeling. I expected that life would suck and it really did as I expected. I don't care if I continue to exist after death. I am sure that at least I will get out of this life where all I had was disillusionment and disappointment.

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