I hate that I have no control over the entropy that is my brain. People look at me, see how good I seem, but never think that deep inside, I'm a ball of pain. I never, ever, complain, and people seem to think that means I have nothing to complain about. It takes everything in my soul not to snap on A daily basis. I'm not going to complain, it could be worse. I could still be sleeping in my car. I could be in the hole that I was in for a long time. Nevertheless, I could be doing better, instead of constantly reminded that I am not good enough.
Oh well, perfection is hard to come by.