I wonder why I am so discontented with my life. It seems that everything is going so well in it; and yet I am not happy. The vagueness and uncertainty rots at my brain until the paranoia has driven me over the edge of sanity and I escape somewhere into my self-hating reality that I have created for myself. I guess I just love to hate myself so much; coupled with the fact that things don't generally turn out well for me makes me realize that everything will eventually fall apart in my life and I'll begin trying to pick myself up again. Except maybe the next time I won't.