Every since I was little, I’ve never wanted to be me. To be me is to always be depressed, always sad, always morose.
Life has made me into a dark ball of anger and hate, and jaded beyond the moons. I do not hate all of me, but I’m tired of most of me- the me that is non-functional, the me that keeps me in the doldrums, the me that keeps myself prisoner in my own mind.
Sigh. I’d rather trade me to be a “happy healthy idiot.”