The Bad Kind of Personal Growth

The hardest day of my life was the day that I realized that I was not important; that nobody really cared about what I was doing except for me.

Since then, I’ve just looked at who I am as someone who has excellent taste in myself. Nobody will ever feel the struggle or the pain; all we can really read in each other, I think, is victory.

And even this is only a projection of longing for the victory that we ourselves would like to have, instead of the person we momentarily, enviously admire.

We are all lonely, snobby connoisseurs of the self.

But still: For her, I would try.