it's not that i don't appreciate my life, or what i've been given. no, rather, the problem is that i appreciate it to such an extent that i grasp the injustice of what i have. this isn't simply because of inequality, but capacity. yes, i'm certain that, out of a million people, over nine hundred could take what i have been given and made my life a hundred and one times better, a hundred and one times worth living.

my circustmances aren't problematic, see? it's me who has the issues, it's me that's the problem, it's me that is mediocre, not my life. not at all.

there is no reason i should be crying. except that i'm stuck with myself, only myself, no one to distract me.

and, as usual, i can't sleep. it seems like i don't sleep before 5 unless my body is too tired from being overrun by vodka.