every night.

Anxious. Every night I try to let my head rest by 2 AM. Maybe 2:30. Depending. Fingers ache. Mind frayed. Every wall looks another surface to bash my head against.

No girls. No smiles. No sun. No well wishing and no good lucks. No reassurance and no appreciation. My hands are open; my hands are not empty. I want to yell until my voice is shot and then I'll yell some more. Misanthropic and pessimistic, but with a smile. A real one. Not fake. Happy pessimism and agreeable misanthropy.

Do you hate?

I hate. Every fiber of my body hates. I don't know what it's like to not hate. Each face crumbles and I hate some more. Vicious cycle. Vicious life. I'll shake hands and I'll give it a shot.

I am not a dog on a leash. I am not someone to be tested on, to see how far the limits go. Fingernails dig into scalp. Am I actually this weak or is it possible for people to be this strong? Nevermind. Nevermind everything. I'll always justify. I'll always want to feel better.

It's 1:41 AM. I have twenty minutes until I intend to go to sleep and another thirty until I actually do.

Do you hate?

You must.