i worry sometimes that I will never be happy, that i will always be bored and/or frustrated and/or sad and/or depressed because I don't know how because I enjoy it too much because it always takes that one last thing I just don't have, that one glimmering hope that's just out of reach right now.

in more magnanimous moments I feel that maybe I am one of those people destined to be an outsider, eternally sad, so other people can live happy, normal lives. I will live to write about pain, so you can call it beautiful and feel smug and secure in your happiness.

Of course, the truth is I'm not that special.