Last year I found an old journal. It had been written in 2014. I don't remember writing it.

But every page was filled with me berating myself for being a failure, day after day of increasingly messy, depressed scrawlings as I hated myself more and more and more. One page had "why am I such a fucking failure" written on it in huge, practically illegible letters.

I still get thoughts like that, but.... that was a horrible time. I'm glad I'm not there anymore.