I hate that I can't put effort into things, that I can't sit down for long periods of time and just do what I planned to do. I hate that I can't accept the part of myself that needs extra time on things, I hate that my motivation dries up before it even had the chance to fester. I hate that I can't talk to anyone I know about it because their advice is always something stupid like "Just try harder" as if I'm not trying my hardest, as if having nothing to show for how much I struggle to get out of bed is a reason to not be doing enough. I hate that I understand why someone would hurt themselves to get someone else to notice their pain, I hate that I can't bring myself that far. I hate that I want to bring myself that far, I hate that I take my life for granted when I know there are people worse off than me, I hate that I feel like the most alone person in the world because no matter how bad it gets there is always someone worse. I hate that I feel like I've complained over nothing.