Self loathing is my specialty. I sit here, brooding, filling myself up with all of this hate, and I store it deep down within me. I am an unhealthy creature rotting from the inside out and all I can do is hang my head in approval of their opinions. My tongue is swollen, choking off my words, so that only small blurbs of protest can escape, though they remain unheard by the ears that I think matter. What has become of me, where I squander my time, pitying myself because of what they say? What have I become where secretly I believe it all?
