I don’t get why other people can see great things in me and yet I can’t. My personality mirror must be broken. My own positive self image is a vampire to me. I can’t see the reflection despite everyone seeing its existence.
What’s worse than not seeing the good in yourself? Knowing what you want, but not being able to get it. Watching “Born Rich” made me want to kick Ivanka Trump off her tower and drown that Johnson & Johnson schmuck in a vat of hot baby oil. Give me three of your crappiest designer handbags to sell on Ebay so I can start my own theater space you whiny, self-interested pieces of spoiled diaper waste. It’s intense, this hatred of my present situation and those with trust funds.
So, with my broken personality mirror, I can only write negative things. Aren’t you lucky?
The un-fairest of them all.