Hate

It’s easy to hate. 

Hate myself. 

To loathe, to detest. 

To feel shame. 

I blame. 

Me. 

For everything. Things I did. Things I didn’t do. Things I should have done. Or could have done. Or would have done. 

The path of self destruction, inward facing, tearing myself apart. 

Like bread, ripped asunder, crumbs, but not of comfort, cascade through my fingers. 

No longer eating away at me. 

It is me. 

Nothing good. Nothing ever good. Nothing achieved. Nothing done. 

No fun. In that. 

Failure. Pure and simple. Useless creature. Useless, useless creature. 

Knows nothing, does nothing, creates nothing. 

Is nothing. Just a void. 

A void. Avoid perhaps. Or an obstacle. 

In the way. Taking the place of someone better. An achiever. A creator. 

Accepting I hate myself is easy. It’s all I know and have known. 

Learn to love ?. 

Why ?. Purpose ?. 

What good would it do ?

To love. 

Me ?. 

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