Man alone is born crying, lives complaining, and dies disappointed.
I went from being a hustler, working different jobs to renting rooms off Craigslist, and I just wasn't happy.
As a kid, I grew to define what I didn't want my life to be like by sitting behind moaning women on the bus, hearing them bang on about their aches and pains, both real and imagined.
Most people are living a life they don't like. They go to work where they don't want to work.
I'm depressed when I don't get to do music. Having to go back to doing something I don't like and am not passionate about would be a tough thing.
Every day starts, my eyes open and I reload the program of misery. I open my eyes, remember who I am, what I'm like, and I just go, 'Ugh'.
Dying is only one thing to be sad over... Living unhappily is something else.
I don't think anyone's life is totally wonderful, however it looks from outside.
The long days are no happier than the short ones.
I should have been deliriously happy. I had my dream come true. I'm a best-selling author. So why is everything in my life, including my writing, going bad?
The real secret of an unsatisfied life lies too often in an unsurrendered will.
I have nothing in my life besides my work. I am obsessed with it. I leave my house only when I'm forced to.
I'm not invited to any exciting parties and my life hasn't really changed.
I consider my teenage years as being desperately unhappy.
There are plenty of miserable millionaires all over the place.
