What do I have to be sad about?

Poverty.  Mental illness.  Violent self-loathing.  Loneliness.  The fact that Donald Trump could very well become president.  The fact that in less than a week I'll be 28 fucking years old and have done absolutely nothing of value to absolutely anyone in damn near three utterly wasted decades.

But other than those things? Nothing really.  Everything is fucking swell.