There are useful sorts of self-loathing… the kind that makes a girl work harder to get what she wants, the kind that makes her pussy wet when a man talks down to her, and the kind that makes her easier to control. In the hands of the right man, everything that’s wrong with her becomes everything that’s right.
But you’re talking about something beyond that… an all-consuming sadness which leaves you adrift in an empty sea. Rather than bonding you to someone, it isolates and deprives you. I’m not of the mind that you must “fix” everything —or anything— fucked up about you, except those things which drive you away from other people and into yourself. I wish you weren’t struggling like that.
You deserve better.