Unhappy

I am supremely unhappy.

That is my lie. I sit here at work counting down the hours until I go to bed. When my alarm shrieks at me in the morning, I don't moan, I sob.

But that's not a lie. Here's the lie:

Life is not a whirlwind fantasy. You cannot just work hard and expect to be happy, let alone get what you want out of life.

Success is NOT 90% perspiration, it's who you know and who you sleep with.

The rich only get richer and the poor only get poorer and there is no Robin Hood to fix that.

There is only you and the knowledge that deep down, no one cares about you. Even when they go above and beyond and help, they only do it for the attention and glory.

People only cry for others for the attention and sympathy they get.

Humans are the least innocent creatures on earth.

One thing that I am happy about: there are no rainbows or happy little elves. No, that would be creepy.

Here's what I don't get: why do I feel this way? Why am I so unhappy?

I am 25-years-old, making good money, don't have an STD, and no chronic illness.

So why am I such a cry baby? Why do I whine like a little brat?

I recently read JK Rowlings commencement speech for Harvard University (http://harvardmagazine.com/go/jkrowling.html.) and it broke my heart.

I began asking myself, "Why aren't I more humbled, more caring, more enlightened?"

And then I realized why--she is a billionaire and I am not.

What is wrong with me?? I think my zoloft's effects are wearing off.