I Hate Life

I hate life.

Sometimes I have thoughts, and they arn't pleasant. Most of the time I don't act on them, but I wish I didn't have these thoughts. I wish the Cynicism and the Animosity would stop building up inside of me, and that I could go back to being me.

There isn't really any reason for me to be pissed at most people either. That's the thing that is getting me the worst. So I sit here and I do my piddly little shit, I try to keep busy, I try to keep distracted. But to no avail, the thoughts still ring out, still echo in my head.

Sometimes I have thoughts, and they arn't pleasant. Maybe I will act on some of them, but I know I will still have these thoughts. The Contentfullness and Joyousness once exhibited is now gone, but maybe I can have a new me to go back to being.

And the sad thing is, everything is supposed to be going so well. Interesting how when you think that things are going well, you always end up getting hit in the face by a brick. I don't even get where these bricks are coming from, except I know inside that someone else's world and house are falling down around them with all the rubble and debris being used against me.

I used to have thoughts, and they were unpleasant. I acted on them, but now I no longer have those thoughs. Everything is now gone from me and all that is left is the hollow shell, the external me that has been here all along. I'll return again soon to myself, but only after I am able to see what's inside me.