Fuck my fucking self.
I give my all, and I try my damnedest, and yet, I still fuck up.
It's a feeling like none other.
It crushes, and it kills, and it eats away the insides.
I get to both watch it, and feel it.
I failed, miserably, totally, massively, not only myself, but ones I love.
I hurt ones I love, and I will continue to do so.
It is not the kind of hurt than can be corrected, only repaired.
And as with all things repaired, it will forever bear the scar.
I look on myself, almost out of body, and I hate.
This person, who has so much.
Who had this all drop into his lap, as if by miracle.
He spits on it, and he disrespects it.
And it's evident by how he acts that he doesn't care enough.
Not enough to appreciate what he has.
Not enough to keep himself from being careless.
If I met me, and I knew this me, I'd hate that me.
I would label him an enemy, and I would endeavour to keep him away from others.
I would tell tales, if I could, of his evil deeds, and his miscalculations, and warn all I met.
Of this deserving pariah, of this should be outcast.
I speak, continually, frequently, on how terrible and worthless people at large are.
I've seen many, many people, who don't deserve what they have.
I mock them, and I hate them, and I become emotionally and mentally enraged at their very existence.
Yet, I find no way to separate myself from them.
How can I stop a problem, if the problem is me?
How can I save myself, from myself?
True
