All my life I was made to believe I am not capable of doing anything beneficial or constructive for my life. This despite of the nine adolescent years spent with the threat of depression each time and yet with zero consideration for drug or alcohol abuse. I was such a disciplined child to every goddamned breathing thing except to my own parents who set their own blasted ridiculous standards.

I'm sorry...no peptalk from any headshrinker could heal your pain. I'm sorry...your pills may blind you from what's already inexorable, only making you see life "through rose colored glasses" but really you can no longer change what's already there (god help). I'm sorry you might as well consider yourself a fruitcake if you believe that 24 years of guilt trips will change, at the drop of a hat, to the fairy tale of your dreams. I'm sorry...but sometimes freakin' idealism is just one big bull and Bishop Berkeley was probably on acid. I'm sorry...goodluck. I hope you get reincarnated as the princess of whateverland who will take no crap from anyone.

Tomorrow, goodluck.