Failure.

I have moments where I'm weak. Where I know what I have to do to be happier but I just can't. I grow tired of fighting for myself. I'm something I hate. It's a sick joke of life to make me struggle for that. Even now I've never done it for me. I have a strong belief in the principle that value comes to those who bring value to themselves. So I work out. I have a job. I do what I can to be a happier healither person. I do these things in the hope that I can find that valuable someone who would recognize that I'm not entirely worthless. That I've made value. They haven't come and this loneliness can't be endured forever. I was supposed to get up today. I knew I had to. I knew doing that and being productive would have made me happier, but I just couldn't find the effort. Not today. I've failed as I'm not perfect and this is my fault.