Hate is all I feel
It sort of simmers out of you, poking out of your skin in jagged shards of glass, uncomfortable and heavy.
The hatred that you’re brimming with, it crawls uncomfortably on your skin like something you can’t get rid of, its sticky and tacky when you try to pry it off but you can’t get rid of it, it infuriates you: how you’re unable to be a steady, moving course of life just like the people around you are, how instead of life and love you feel agony and anger towards everything.
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It’s all consuming, its ugly and it scares you. It scares you because at first it started off small, something that you could hide, laugh a little too loudly, stage something foolish so that people wouldn’t look at you too closely, because if they were to look you in the eye, try to understand what was behind those eyes, they’d see point black. They’d see the terrible things that you can’t say or do or think. And they wouldn’t be able to handle it, because nobody can hold onto the ugly, they can never grasp it as it is and smile at it, hold onto it like it’s something fragile. They only ever see the good and love it, laugh with it.
When it grows, when it decides to become something unfathomable, it starts to leak. The charade that you once put on begins to slip, the mask that you wore sheds and all the ugly spills over. You’re left standing over the mess you’ve caused unsure how to fix it. If you try to clean up the mess with your hands it’ll melt them right off, its acidic, its sour and a terrible terrible thing. So you look at the spilled remains of what you are, dare it to move as the people around you gawk, they point at the mess beneath you, but nobody comes to help you because they are too busy whispering and telling eachother how can so much evil be in one person, so much rage towards everything? It’s unspeakable. Except its not, everybody has that element in them, some more than others: that terryfying feeling of drowning in despise for the world. You’re just one of the unlucky few people who have been laid bare, the one who had too much fire around them and finally they became it, let themselves be enfulged by the flames until they turned into a flame. A painful thing to touch.
Slowly, you realize you’re okay with it, with being a hateful person by nature, because it is much easier to live your life in acceptance than in denial and grief, theres a peace that comes with it. Knowing that all you’ll ever be is the thing that keeps growing and eating your insides, the gnawing feeling that hate is all you’ll ever be.
