Every year I feel more like a failure.
Each year my girls get older it just becomes more blatantly obvious how little I've been able to do for them, compared to what was done for me.
Every time I've hoped that things would "really be better this time" that hope has come crashing down into worse disappointment.
The world becomes a mocking morass of reminders of the vast list of things I've striven for and failed. It is empty, and cold, and ever so bitter. All things which should bring me some happiness just drive me deeper inward, as no matter how much love comes my way, I feel like a fraud for being loved.
I am a failure and every damn thing about the holidays reminds of this inescapable fact.
I wish they'd stop playing that fucking music ...