i hate a lot of things
and one day i was telling this to my therapist.
i told her, i hate how i hate so much, and she asked.
what do you hate exact;y?
so with a typical response i answer
bu what do you really hate?
i never really knew the answer to this question at the time but
4 days later and 4 hours past midnight the answer came to me.
i am 115 pounds and i hate my stomach some days and i hate how
it will look in 10 years from now.
i hate my thighs, not all of them just the small area that
connects my private area to the rest of my thigh.
i hate my hips and how they indent to form above what is
the smallest muffin top known to man.
and i also hate my feet.
i can now imagine a conversation with her
and what she would be asking me next
is that all you hate?
no. i hate a lot of things actually.
i hate the perception of myself and i hate my self motivation,
i hate the person ive become, i hare my future because i know
that it too will be a let down like everything else life has thrown at me.
i hate my birthday
i hate the days i cant get out of bed because he sadness and
insecurity is drawing me back in.
i hate my friends, i hate most of my peers,
i hate people i dont even know because i like them more than i like myself.
i hate that i cant truly express how i feel to anyone without thinking they dont care.
i used to hate my mom until i realized she was only doing the things she did because she actually did care
and now i hate myself for ever hating her.
i hate the idea of therapy.
because if i cant tell my family and friends whats wrong why will i be able to tell a stranger?
i hate speaking out loud because my mouth moves faster then my brain and the words
just never come out right.
The list can go on and on; but the thing i hate most is that i hate that people hate me. because i hate, so much.