Absolutely, and it hates my guts. I'm certainly not at the top of its hitlist, but it hates me enough to make so many little things go wrong at exactly the right times as to slowly drive me insane. And it messes up my mind and makes me irritable and depressed and foggy and talentless and unimaginitive and without energy with no escape, and makes me worse than everyone else, and makes my body very uncomfortable and ugly for me. And to top it all off, whenever I have a friend or someone I admire, most of them have the best lives. And to add insult to injury, the more they are like me, the better they are, and the better their luck is too.

Of course it's also done so in such a way that no one else can possibly notice, or understand half of it. But it's all much too personal for me to believe it's all sheer coincidence.

The only things that keep me from ending my life are cowardice and fear of the effects it'll have on others.