Every Friday I write a little essay about how great I am and send it off to a stranger. Sometimes I receive a generic rejection two or 12 weeks later, but usually they never reply.

I used to apply for jobs more often, but after a few hundred applications and increasingly worse mental health, I found I got exactly the same response whether I sent a thoroughly researched and edited cover letter or a picture of my cat, so I gave up trying so hard. I used to obsess about what was wrong with me. Everyone told me that it was them, not me; that it was business, not personal; that doing the same thing over and over while expecting a different outcome was extremely sane. But still, every rejection fed the little worm in my brain that said I was useless. I don’t think the worm is entirely in the wrong. I think it’s normal to feel like a reject after being repeatedly rejected, to feel worthless when your bank balance is zero, to feel lost after losing.

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It strikes me that my life is very different to most people my age, and the rickety rope bridge spanning that chasm is only getting more frayed. I live a “student lifestyle” at twice the age of a typical student (I just turned 40). I shop exclusively at discount grocers and secondhand shops – except when I don’t, and feel incredibly guilty. I don’t have a car, and public transport is stressful because I’m always looking out for inspectors, so I ride an old bike. Unless my parents die right now or I become CEO of........

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