At one point, a long time ago, I was a confident little kid.

I was bullied throughout three years of middle school. I was called names and had food thrown at me, had nasty notes stuck in my locker, was stabbed in the back by people I thought were my friends. The school did very little. If this happened today, we'd have slapped them with a lawsuit. My parents didn't really know how to handle it. Mom still feels bad. I was sent to a counselor, rather than a therapist. I wonder if that hurt me.

Things that happen at that age tend to mold us for life. I came out of that situation despising myself and I don't know why. I learned not to fight back in middle school, because when I did fight back -- either verbally or through rude gestures -- the teachers pulled me aside and told me how inappropriate and wrong that was. I need to just ignore nastiness and let it fade on its own.

Reality check, assholes: IT DOESN'T FADE.

The result of all this is that I've reached my late twenties full of self-loathing and doubt. I do not feel I am particularly skilled; rather, I think I'm coasting along on some thin string of luck that will run out. About the only quality I routinely recognize in myself is that I'm funny -- I do see that. But everything else? Forget it.

I hide it all pretty well. In December, I actually believed my own hype: I quit my job! I worked as a freelancer! I was badass!

Now it's February and the reality check is in. I am lonely, exhausted, and not.doing.anything. Since this blog was originally started to be all about positivity, I'm not going to sully it further with my sob stories. I'm putting it on hiatus until I figure out what the hell is wrong.