I know my life if no picnic. I really have no room to complain when you think of the grand scheme of things. It’s really pretty selfish for me throw this lifelong pity party for myself but frankly it’s gotten to the point where I don’t care. Yes there are people who have no one to love or care for them. There are people who are tormentented by people they are supposed to love or even complete strangers. Some people wake up not knowing where they’ll get their next meal or sleeping curled up in the rain. There are soldiers thousands and thousands of miles away from the people they love. People die every day. But what about me? So maybe I don’t have a right to feel the way I do. Maybe I can’t help it. It’s not like I haven’t tried to get help. I don’t like that i can’t just be happy and grateful for what I have. I tried to get help. The Doctor says it’s chemical. “clinical depression”. It’s not “my fault”. I sure feel like i can’t help it. But it doesnt make me hate myself any less. I don’t even know why i hate myself exactly. I honestly have no idea. I just do. I hate myself beyond explanation i guess. For no reason. Maybe that’s why no one can help me?