Who? Me. She hates thinking too. She hates reading. It's quite odd. But she can't stop daydreaming or philosophising about the world in every aspect. She has identity crises everyday, because how odd it is to hate things you also love, but hate. She feels incomplete and weird. You could argue that it is the "Human Experience", but I don't agree. She was particularily good at torturing herself with opposing desires and motives. She got the "ick" from everything she ever did. She regretted her entire life, mainly because she kept switching ideals such that everything she had ever created, worked for and learnt seemed now for nothing. And she still didn't know *how* she was spending her time, it kind of just *spent itself*.
YOU ARE READING
Story by Person who can rawr
RandomI write in here when I feel insane. Read this if you want an uncomfortable trip down the crappy slumbering parts of the human neuronal slush. An ode self-hatred.
