I consider it a great misfortune that nature
has not granted me that indefinite something
which attracts people. I believe it is this lack
more than any other which has deprived me of
a rosy existence. It has taken me so long to
win my friends, I have had to struggle so long
for my precious girl, and every time I meet
someone I realize that an impulse, which defies
analysis, leads that person to underestimate me.
This may be a question of expression or
temperament, or some other secret of nature,
but whatever it may be it affects one deeply. What
compensates me for all this is the devotion shown
to me by all those who have become my friends-
but what am I talking about?

Letters of Sigmund Freud #93
to Martha Bernays
January 27, 1886