If it's any consolation to you--and it is to me--people have been feeling this bullshit forever.

Catullus 85, first century BC:

*Odi et amo. quare id faciam, fortasse requiris?*

*nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.*

I hate and I love. Perhaps you ask why I do this? I do not know, but I feel it happen and I am torn apart.