Tonight I am thinking about someone I hate instead of someone I love. Also, for some reason when I think on this and then look at my hands, they look unnatural. Nothing is wrong with my hands, they just appear out of place. Maybe I've been looking at the computer for too long and become accustomed to the screen instead of the flesh and blood that spends so much time in front of it.
Back to the hate, the warm fuzzy hate. I wonder how other people hang with the anger. Do you people find yourself floating in a strange comfort zone while a woman sings a jazzy rendition of some song you could have sworn you heard before? Like hate is your favorite club, where you go to piss all over your chance to swing at the Love Lounge. That's fine though, it's "comfortable" in this shithole, for some reason it suits you, why else would you keep coming?
So here I am, dying. I'm in relatively good health, but the minutes and seconds are ticking away. There is no way that the universe could comprehend me right now, and even if it could wrap itself around the concept of me, what would it care? I know for a fact that within my body there exists microscopic living things, and beyond that the atoms that make up everything. What would I think, if I found out that for a brief moment in time, a flick a light that might not have been there in the darkness, had spent that amount of time causing its own misery? I would probably act as the universe would act, mutter to myself "that's stupid," and get on with existing until the big freeze.
But here I am, thinking about that fuckface when I could be thinking about a cherished one. Hmmm, this could mean that perhaps its not all hate. I probably want it to be hate, but there's other lingering forms of misery there, comfort in the fact that this or that. That shit needs to be squashed, and how! I can't be wasting my time on sorrow when there's so much in the world to hate.
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