Why it is real stories rarely have a happy ending?

Why it is real stories rarely have a happy ending? 

I’m sad, I am sad, god, and I can’t stop myself from saying it over and over again. I’m liar, I’m hypocrite I am absolutely disgusting. Been a while since me last wrote here, it’s been quite a while since I last wrote my book…. I am sad, very sad.

God, will this journal be the only thing ever wrote? Will it just be this sad story what’s left of me?

I am nothing of who I want to be, I am not friendly, or cute, or honest, or nice, or even funny. I’m not smart, I’m not beautiful…. I keep giving so much importance to looks, I can’t help it, I want to be an artist, and beauty is a great part of it. I’m not shallow I really don’t want it to be… I always tell myself, I’m special because I can find depth in what others see as shallow.

I want to write my book, I want to publish my book… I don’t want to be a frustrated artist, I don’t want to be a failed writer… how can I know my dreams won’t stop being goals. How can I have the strength to not give up… how can I not be rich, how can I not be creative….

(2 days late)