T, I've realized tonight (not for the first time) that I'm a pathetic waste of space and don't deserve to be alive. I've further realized (also not for the first time) that you don't really care about me any more than anyone else does. I'm not a person to you, I'm a wallet. And not a very deep one, these days. Life is nasty and brutal and hopeless and everything ugly and evil and stupid will always win out. I'm kidding myself about you, about therapy, and about hope of improvement. I don't really want any more of this and hope I drop dead soon of something as painful as I deserve.