I’m unhappy because I’ve been holding onto such a pessimistic point of view lately. I’m insecure because I keep comparing myself to beautiful girls, intelligent girls, flawless girls—but luckily, this does not translate into bitterness or hatred for others. I’m stupid because I procrastinate and I have no faith that I can do well, and when I do try, I seem to fall flat on my face half the time. I’m a failure because I took little rejections here and there to heart too much. I’m angry because I absolutely detest myself and every single fucking aspect that composes who I am and what I have done. I’m regretful because I can’t forgive myself for my past and let go of my mistakes. I’m sad because I rely on other people far too much, and I cannot find happiness without them. I’m lonely because I miss people who I shouldn’t give a shit for, because they’ve simply never given a shit about me. I’m reminiscent because I’m in love with the past and I cannot see the future. I’m materialistic because I put too much importance into numbers and facts and figures, and I’m just so.. jealous. I’m insane and a little crazy because I overanalyze every detail about this world and each word that escapes others’ lips, and I cannot stop dissecting every inch of myself and counting my flaws. I’m imperfect. I’m a little broken. I’m fixing myself, but it doesn’t seem to be working.