This book pissed me off.

F*** you, Aaron Goldfarb

While I’m only near halfway through, I absolutely loathe this book. The smug satisfaction, the elitist attitude and the nonchalance that the author displays when documenting his (mostly true…I think) failures hit me in the only place that I have little protection.

My id.

This book makes me feel exactly like I think I would feel if an entire room of people decided to roast me, instead the roastmaster was me. Looking into a mirror. I’d bring up my personal misgivings, ridicule my shortcomings and laugh at jokes I can only appreciate while near tears.

If you’re the type of person that thinks getting beat up will somehow make you a better person, go pick up this book right now. If you’re the type that thinks coddling, co-dependency and a lifetime of sticking your head in the sand is better, then run away and go pick up some novel by Tony Robbins.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to hide all sharp objects before I sit back down to read, as I’m worried I’ll hate myself just enough to want to make myself hurt a little bit.

So f*** you, Aaron Goldfarb. F*** you and your ability to make me think about my life, what I’ve done and what I could do. It’s so much easier just to fail all the time, as at least I can say I tried.