I think I have given up on ever liking myself. I don’t think there will ever be a day that I look in the mirror and not feel loathing. Years and thousands wasted on therapy/psych sessions and medication, and it has gotten me nowhere. I have given up on the hope of ever feeling more than just okay on my best days. I will live to accomplish nothing of note and one day leave this world behind with nothing of value. In a strange way, that nihilistic acceptance has been freeing. I am not important. I am not special. I am just another face in the background. I will not be remembered. And somehow this is the most peace I have felt for as long as I can remember.