Circa 2003
I hate the way the sun peers through my blinds in the morning.
I hate the way my body reacts to stress.
I hate the cars that rumble in the streets.
I hate fluctuations in temperature.
I hate the way mirrors are so confusing.
I hate the way my girlfriend doesn’t understand me.
I hate the blood that in my veins.
I hate the hair that’s on my body.
I draw things and they don’t look normal, I hate that.
I feel things and I ache, I hate that.
I find beauty in complication, I hate that.
I don’t remember names, I hate that.
I hate the way people think I’m negative.
I hate the way I hate what people think.
I hate the way I hurt when people stab me.
I hate the way my memory distorts things.
I hate mornings after breakups.
I hate mornings after parties.
I hate when I lose my motivation.
I do things because I have to, I hate that.
I take things I don’t need, I hate that.
I have trouble expressing my feelings, I hate that.
I dramatize my pain, I hate that.
I hate the way things fall out of calibration.
I hate the timing people have.
I hate windows in the winter.
I hate testosterone, and estrogen.
I hate the drawing I did of you.
I hate that I never took a picture.
I hate that I distort the way you loved me.
I hate that you loved me so distorted.
I run faster in my dreams, I hate that.
I take pills when my head hurts, I hate that.
I do things half assed half the time, I hate that.
I do things well when I don’t try, I hate that.