I'll never have the life I want. I don't even want to try anymore because it feels like too much work.

In order to be happy, I have to get employed full time while working on my best-selling novel. I'll have to spend every waking second looking for jobs and networking and following up on every opportunity until I find a job.

I have to socialize more and have a group of friends like on TV and have a rich and exciting life so I'll have plenty of first-hand experiences to write about.

I have to be the perfect friend and be prepared every second of the day to be the perfect friend who never does anything wrong, and who always says and does the exact right thing at the exact right time, and never embarrasses herself or causes others to look at her like she's a freak. I should probably date, even though I'll never want to get married or have a family because then I'll have to devote all my time into showing interest in them so they won't see how needy and self-absorbed I am. I don't see how I could connect with anyone.

I have to learn to eat fewer calories and sleep much less and get contacts and be sure my hair and makeup is touched up perfectly so I never look stupid. I'll have to submit to painful waxing sessions and other painful procedures even though I can't stand pain, but I should be willing to sacrifice a little discomfort to be successful, right?

And I have to write the best novel ever: one that everyone will love and remember for the rest of their lives. I have to show all the people in the world that I am worthy enough for them.

I have to do all this and I have to do it much better than all the millions of overachievers out there who automatically know how to do the perfect thing all the time without even having to try too hard. Not only do I have to do something worthy for others, I have to devote every second to pretending my head isn't filled with selfish, greedy, disgusting, and resentful thoughts.

I know how selfish I sound writing this. I wish being a good productive member of the human race were as easy for me as it is for the overachievers, but it's not. It's impossibly, exhaustingly hard.

It's easier just to give up on my dreams of having a wonderful life. It's easier just to admit that I'm a failure and stay home and watch TV. If only I were younger or smarter or more likable. If only I had the energy to do something good. If only I could be like those perfect, mature mini-adult kids in books who do everything well all by themselves. If only I realized I should have started taking my life more seriously at a much younger age.