Many people would probably consider me extremely lucky. I have a loving family and a few really good friends. I live with hight materialistic standards – cool technology and expensive lipsticks are nothing special. I do well in school. I don’t gain weight very easily. For god’s sake, I live in a democracy! I don’t have cancer!

That doesn’t mean I don’t have problems though. Life can be such a bitch and so can I. Things just go wrong sometimes. It’s not as if I never lie in my bed at night, crying my heart out to The black parade because the entire world is against me, there is nothing to be happy for.

I know I should be more grateful for what I have. I try to, every now and then, but it’s hard.

People often tell me that people are starving in Africa, as if that would make me any happier. I really can’t see the logic – that there are people who suffer a lot more than I do won’t change my problems. On the contrary, I will feel bad for being so selfish, only thinking about my own silly problems. Or I have to feel sorry for them as well, despite having quite enough feeling sorry for myself.

“Even if somebody else has it much worse, that doesn’t really change the fact that you have what you have”

~The perks of being a wallflower, Stephen Chbosky


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