Lying To Myself

What a horrible feeling, having actually written a book but coming to the distressing realization that so many people write far better than me. I realized after the book was published that what I write is actually pulp trash, and while I enjoy pulp trash, it's kind of a come down to realize that I'm not truly a good writer.
It's too bad I have no other skills or interests. I once wanted to be a psychotherapist but I didn't think that crazy people could do that, and I'm too old now.
It sucks knowing that in truth I have nothing of interest to say and my writing will never make the difference that I wished it would.
It sucks realizing that I am worthless.