I have never been happy. I’ve had fleeting moments, maybe days, maybe a week at a time, but no more than that. Every happiness I’ve had has turned out to be a lie. Every man I’ve ever been in love with has told me that he doesn’t love me, and I find myself incapable of being attracted to the people who DO fall in love with me. I have a job but no career, and no way to get one. I’m broke all of the time, and every hobby or interest I’ve taken up has either betrayed me (the people in the community for each activity have shown me I’m neither talented or welcome) or I’ve sucked at it. Sometimes both.

What does all of this mean? I’m sure it means I was never meant to exist. That my birth was a mistake. I’ve contributed nothing of worth to society. All I do is take up space and resources with my inherent mediocrity. I’m selfish and a bad person, and I don’t deserve to live. It just makes sense as to why I’ve always been miserable and alone–I wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place. I learned a few years ago that my mother’s relatives had told her she’d be better off getting an abortion when she was pregnant with me. That’s probably true. She and my father lived in poverty for many years because they had 4 kids. If they had stopped at 2 (I’m the 3rd) they wouldn’t have been nearly as impoverished.

I’m starting to think there’s no downside. I shouldn’t exist. I should just die. I need to find a home for my 2 cats, and then my responsibilities will be concluded and I can do what my mother should have done to me when I was only a fetus. Her soft, weak-willed heart caused me and herself years of suffering. If only she’d had the courage to do what needed to be done…what should have been done.