I hate. me.

what am i.

What am I. Do I even know? What am I?

What do I think I am?

To me I’m a screwed up human being,

Where my passion and ambition for things are fleeting.

Where my joy and happiness turn out into pain and self-hatred.

Where my worries take over my life till I feel faded.

I feel stress, I feel anxiety,

I feel such heaviness on my body where it denies me,

Freedom.

Freedom from pain.

Freedom from sadness.

Freedom from this ever growing shadow on my shoulder.

Kind of like an infection, scratch that exactly like an infection.

It is an infection.

It takes over minds, it takes over bodies.

Takes over the use of your hands,

To where you don’t even have control over what it does.

You think you have control.

But you don’t.

This wicked monster,

That gives you a falser

Definition, of yourself.

You identity is lost,

You don’t even remember,

All you see is the cost of

What happens what you screw up.

You’ve decided to surrender

To the pain, the failure,

The hate and loss of joy

Its

Normal.

You’ve become comfortable in your discomfort,

You’ve become naive to the whispers of hate, hate, hate.

Destroy, kill, hate, hate, hate.

It’s a day to day normality,

That’s a constant reminder of your mortality.

You can no longer remember the happier days,

Where you could see people in bliss,

Your eyes are clothed in a black-grey shade

And every bring thing, you miss.