It doesn't have to be so hard. You wrestle with the guilt, the shame. But if you just said 'the world did this to me' -- some of that…

It doesn't have to be so hard. You wrestle with the guilt, the shame. But if you just said 'the world did this to me' -- some of that weight would be lifted...

That weight is called self-awareness. Without it you may float.

Accept that your difficulties are simply results of unfair, personal attacks. All the 'woe-is-me's won't make you popular, of course, but life will be less of a challenge.

I'm a victim of cosmic oppression, go easy on me.

The universe pulls its punches, or does it recoil in disgust?

Not enough slots.

I did this to me. I don't need pity.

Yet you evoke it so often.

No more doubt. Just the bitter clarity of forever being the one it happened to.

A kitchen's worth of knives in your back, tyre treads across your face. Someone's got it in for you.

Everyone. They're all out to get me.

The harder you try, the more they come after you. That's the lesson here.

Half a decade on the shelf, on top of a lifetime of closed doors and missed chances. You'd think the universe would throw you a bone by now.

Yeah. Where's our fuckin' bones, like?

All the universe does is take. And I all do is give!

You give so much of yourself that there's a trail of blood and tears wherever you go.

No, I don't deserve a bone.

You've embraced the logic of your oppressors. And what do you think the reward is for getting in line? More knives.

Could it be... the whole universe is against me?

It would make sense. It's not you who's failing, it's everything else. A vast and utterly unsalvageable unfairness.

It's fine. I'm used to it.

Maybe it's habit that keeps you circling the wounds, then.