Discombobulated Thoughts

Miscellaneous Thoughts

Ask me how I feel about myself in the dead of night when not a single soul stirs

I hate myself, I loath myself, I reserve the highest echelons of contempt solely for myself

I hate how emotional and turbulent I am, no matter how unfazed I act it never works

I hate how unattractive I am, no matter how I look at my body I can't seem to ever like it

I hate how I flit between passion and passion, how my motivation dies off in a flash

I hate quiet how I am, how I never manage to speak up, my inability to simply talk to people I like. I think that's why I tend to dislike loud and uproarious people, they make me jealous among other things, why can't I be like that?

Ah, jealousy, I hate how jealous I get.

I hate how I internalize insignificant things and mull over them for hours on end. I can never let things go

I hate how I constantly feel like an outcast among outcasts, like I'm not meant to fit in anywhere. It's festered into this hatred of being placed into a category or community. I hate being instinctively associated with others and judged because of it, but I also hate that I feel that way

I hate my inability to explain myself, I could use a vast array of handcraft words, sew them into a sentence meticulously and still not be able to truly explain how I feel on the inside

I hate how I can never stop my bad habits

Most of all, however, I hate that I have to write this in the first place. Yet, I also hate that thought

Funny, isn't it?