Early Indria Irish

I try to be a good person. I really do. It doesn't always succeed. I'm kind of fascinated by the concept of someone out there hating me. Or just disliking me. By this point, I'm pretty resigned to rejection. I can't think of a way to phrase that in a manner that sounds less like a Strong Sad diary entry, but I don't mean it in the horrifically depressing way it sounds. I'd elaborate on this, but sleep just hit me like a forty ton sack of badgers.