"Why do I even bother writing this? It's not like anyone would care to read it. There are so many books out there—why would anyone stop and take a look at mine? Maybe I lack talent, maybe I lack insight, or maybe my luck is just that hopeless. But this will be another failed project of mine. I've tried so many things, yet none of them seem to work. None of them stick. Am I that big of a failure? Am I destined to be mediocre at everything I touch?"
"Even my father—I can't earn enough respect from him to make him look me in the eye. Is it because I refuse to do what he wants me to? Or am I just scared that if I try to fulfill his wishes and follow the plan he has for me, I'll fail at that too?"
"The more I write in my journal, the less and less I see the point in going on. It's like my life is meaningless, so useless that if I can't even manage to do one thing right, then I might as well commit sui—"
Knock knock.
