It gnaws my innards at night, the raging anger and melancholy I feel for my actions. Who am I to make someone unhappy? Who am I to judge someone and make verdicts on their character or their personality?
Why do I always feel so unhappy, so insecure?
I should always remember to be humble, for I know I am worth nothing more than I am.
I should be satisfied.
I should be happy.
I should be grateful for how materialistically affluent I am and how I don’t have to fight for my life every hour every day.
I should be.

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