My mother and grandmother have told me that they hate me and I am no relative of theirs on more than one occasion. (Separately, they dislike each other and don't like admitting they agree on something.) On regular days they are as affectionate as regular families. On such regular days I ask them if they love me at least three times per day. They don't know why I ask. They have forgotten they told me that they hate me. I ask to keep living.