Wish All You Want, You're Still Gonna Die

If you are one of those people for whom life is something that is at best endured — an endless slog of days in which you wander around burdened by an ever-present voice reminding you that you are worse than worthless because worthless things at least have no net effect on the world while yours is mostly negative, and even in those few fleeting moments when you are able to draw some small pleasure you are always aware that when your joy passes it will be even sadder because you know you didn’t deserve it and all it was was a temporary salve for a wound that won’t heal, nor should it, because why would you warrant anything decent, as miserable as you are and as miserable as you make the people around you — it will probably not help you to learn that even death is not without its regrets. Sorry.