I’m stuck with this constant feeling, the familiar feeling of despair. The moment I wake up, right when switching from the dream realm to reality, the burden is back on. Lying over your chest like you’d wish for your lover in bed. Whispering, not sweet nothings, but the grudging sermons of your inadequacy. Which grinds what’s left of your self worth into bitter dust. The will slowly emanates from your body and astral projects itself pitying you just as it disappears. The burden of your body itself is too much right now and you can’t carry any more of this existence. You wish there was a war so you can die a meaningful death. But you can’t have others die with you. It has to be a one man’s battle. Is that life?
I’m stuck here. I need help. But I don’t know of what kind and whom to ask. I’m lamenting as though my pain would fade. It doesn’t. It only gains focus. A focused pain. I need a job, some money, a lover, some friends, a life that borders on normalcy.
What is that I do that makes people hate me? What did I do to deserve their loathe? I don’t know it must be some natural hidden talent. If they like me now, they just need to give it time to arrive at the obvious outcome. It might not be hate but it could be just an indifference or a loss of usefulness. Or may be it’s just my imagination. People probably don’t have that much time to hate cause they are probably busy with their own lives. You know cause people have lives.
Hate is what I have for myself right now. Hate is what I’m. Hate is filling me with rage. Hate is driving me mad. Hate fills my life. Hate for myself. Love for none.