Bad poetry

Sometimes I hate the world,
Sometimes I hate myself.
Sometimes I love the world,
But do I ever love myself?.

Thoughts after bad poetry

I realized, thinking about the poetry I wrote...

I often hate myself, the world, my life, the people around me. I often love the world, my life and the people around me. I often have an overblown and high opinion of myself. But I've never had feelings of actual love for myself.

Does anyone? I mean, actual love, warm fuzzies, like you feel for a close friend or SO or relative.
I'm trying to figure out if this is normal or if this is a dysfunctional thing about me.