I have this permenant hatred for myself that despite me constantly trying to work on myself, never seems to quite go away. And maybe the reason it never goes away is because I’m always working on myself.
Strange, right? But think about it.
In my mind’s eye, constantly working on myself has convinced my instinctual nature that something is inherently wrong with me.
And guess what!?
That can really lower my already horrendously low self-esteem! (Yay!)
Which turns out to make me sadder and sadder until low and behold, I’m staring at the face of depression as my barely visible hand in my crowded mind spasms a wave of a white handkerchief.
Point is, I’m not happy.
I’m not happy one fucking bit.