Everything about me is wrong. Every inch of my skin and hair is messed up and imperfect. Every thought I have is impure and every idea I have is bad. Every drawing I draw is too dark and every note I sing is off pitch. Every word I write isn’t placed right and every song I listen to is written strangely. Every book I read is weird and everything I touch disintegrates. Every person I know sees me as imperfect and wrong. Everything about me is wrong and I know it as well as anyone else who has the misfortune of meeting me or even just looking at me.