Animosity, Dear Friend.

Hatred is probably the strongest feeling I can evoke from my childhood, I guess that’s not so surprising. At least for me, looking back, I can see why I felt that way. I haven’t had such a tough life, most things just came to me, sometimes when I had no real need for them, yet sometimes I always had it whenever I needed it, and sometimes it was just a little too late. But it wasn’t all so bad, and then it happened.

In hindsight, all of it I can root down to self-hate – my own self. In the present, right now, I suppose it’s more general. I might not be the most educated person when it comes to people, but deep down I know it’s not their words, or their actions that I hate, it is who they are – their own self. You could be a fuckin’ saint, a tree-hugger, a metalhead, a journalist, or a policeman, or just a human-being – I hate you. It’s nothing personal. It’s entirely personal.

You, your self, are the scum of the universe. Just because that is who you are, and all you’ll ever allow yourself to be. Whether you put on a mask, a label, just to fit in, or even if you make no association to anything outside your self – it’s still “you”. “Little boxes all the same”, you are all posers. And I’m one of you, and I hate that. I don’t want to be that.

I don’t want to be a fuckin’ package, signed, sealed and delivered – “I’m you! Yeah, another one of you, pillaging every bit of anything I can get my hands on. I am the anomaly that never quite fixed itself, because I’m perfect in all my imperfections. A paradox, a being that thrives on hypocrisy, on pointing out everything beyond my self, simply because I don’t have what it takes to point that finger right back at my face, right between the eyes and say it, mean it, and let it overwhelm my self to the point that there is nothing left of it. Because that’s all it takes – nothing.”

I would rather be nothing than be you.

Forgive me,
I’m honest.

photo-credit: k_iz

One Response to “Animosity, Dear Friend.”
  1. I hate you too, stinky ❤

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