I was a beggar - I became rich

I'm desperate. I am 25 years old and my life is like a pitch hell. The rain, interspersed with tears, runs down my cheeks, but I don't feel the cold, I don't feel anything. Only the pain that squeezes the heart with steel pincers. I do not understand why I should live, why I was born. In order to suffer and suffer, in order to bring pain to your family and friends? What kind of son am I who cannot provide for the old age of his parents, what kind of father am I, what kind of man, if I cannot feed my family? If I hate myself, how can I live with self-hatred in my soul?