All of this pop psychology dogma says that I have to love myself. Am I the only one who thinks that's a massive load of bullsh!t? What's there to love about me? I suck grievously in a myriad of ways. I can't do anything right. The universe conspires to force everything I try to do right off the rails. I don't know why I even bother to try.
I thought I had made this stupendous breakthrough at work today. I actually felt excited for a change. Yeah...well, no. It was just another false hope in an endless string of false hopes. As soon as I discovered my breakthrough was a mirage put forth to tease me once again, I fell back into my normal state of despair.
The only function I have in this universe is to siphon off bad luck from other people so they can enjoy their lives more.