I’ve been unhappy with life for as long as I can remember. I hate a lot of people, but most of all, I hate myself for what I am and what I have become.
I’m ugly and fat. No amount of cosmetic surgery or dieting will change how I feel about my appearance. I like men who are more attractive than I am in every way. I’m laughably ambitious.
I’m stupid. I thought I destined for better things. I thought wrong. The truth is, I’m just some academic wannabe who is incredibly insecure about how much knowledge and skills she lacks.
I’m useless. I have no talents, no gift, no interests, no passion for anything. I sleep, eat and study and that’s it. I have nothing going for me in this life.
I’m lazy. I never complete tasks. I pay attention to the details and forget the full picture. Then, when I realise I’m so far behind, I give up.
No one really likes me. All I hear is the negative things.
I’m so insecure with who I am that I have created an imaginary universe in which I am not any of the above things I have mentioned. I interact with people I like and have romantic relations with them. I’m successful, smart and s***. Bad things happen but I know how to deal with them and I have someone to talk to. I am happy in that world, but I can’t linger for long. Reality hits- in the morning, usually, when I realise I have to face yet another day.
I deserve to die. I am a waste of space and resources. I won’t miss my friends or my mother; I will be dead and without feeling. I won’t experience my death; they will. And for that, I am truly sorry.
I love you. Goodbye.
