I guess in the end I always expected myself to turn out a mess, but not like this. I thought I'd be cool hot mess, not a helpless one. Someone who smokes, drinks wine, and wears dramatic make-up to cover up depression. Someone who can get by on their own, even if hardly. Someone who can have a dozen shots without wincing. Someone who doesn't give a fuck. Certainly not someone who can barely do basic errands, gets sick from 5 minutes in the car, and gets indigestion from a cup of coffee. I never dared to even yearn for conventional happiness, but I even failed at being a failure.