Misanthrope23
Well-known member
why do i hate myself?
I hate how I look
I hate how I feel
I hate where I live
I hate the people I know
I hate that I’m scared to death
I hate that the world is in turmoil
I hate that people are starving
I hate that people are poor
I hate that people kill each other
I hate that countries are being bombed
I hate that babies are taken away from their families
I hate that women are being raped
I hate that people hate each other for their religion
I hate that people discriminate
I hate that weapons are made
I hate that the forest are being cut down
I hate that animals are hurt
I hate that artists are never heard
I hate that we are thought to obey
I hate that we cheat
I hate that we steal
I hate that we lie
I hate that we are vulnerable
I hate that we make mistakes
I hate that we aren’t brave
I hate that good people always lose
I hate that people are selfish
I hate the people that get anything they want
I hate that I am lonely
there are a number of reasons why i hate myself. way more reasons for loving myself. people always say "be positive" but let's get real here. almost everything i've done in life doesn't deserve any praise. it's hard trying to stay positive if your such a failure like i am. what incentive is there to try new things? nothing changes. there's always something in the way, and i have no way of getting over it. you get rich and then you die. big deal. i could care less about that crap. life is about being able to do want you want to do. but i can't do anything. i mean sure i like art i can draw, but am i really that good, am i really that innovative? and what does innovation really mean? after you're dead and gone there will be another person that comes along that trumps you. so you become archaic, outdated, ancient history. even if you do get remembered it's for the wrong reasons. you just become a name. and it's not like you'll be consciously aware of people remembering you after your dead. you'll just be a pile of bones. i think the only reason we work at all is because we need excuses that life means something. life is meaningless. i'm really starting to come to this conclusion.
I hate how I look
I hate how I feel
I hate where I live
I hate the people I know
I hate that I’m scared to death
I hate that the world is in turmoil
I hate that people are starving
I hate that people are poor
I hate that people kill each other
I hate that countries are being bombed
I hate that babies are taken away from their families
I hate that women are being raped
I hate that people hate each other for their religion
I hate that people discriminate
I hate that weapons are made
I hate that the forest are being cut down
I hate that animals are hurt
I hate that artists are never heard
I hate that we are thought to obey
I hate that we cheat
I hate that we steal
I hate that we lie
I hate that we are vulnerable
I hate that we make mistakes
I hate that we aren’t brave
I hate that good people always lose
I hate that people are selfish
I hate the people that get anything they want
I hate that I am lonely
there are a number of reasons why i hate myself. way more reasons for loving myself. people always say "be positive" but let's get real here. almost everything i've done in life doesn't deserve any praise. it's hard trying to stay positive if your such a failure like i am. what incentive is there to try new things? nothing changes. there's always something in the way, and i have no way of getting over it. you get rich and then you die. big deal. i could care less about that crap. life is about being able to do want you want to do. but i can't do anything. i mean sure i like art i can draw, but am i really that good, am i really that innovative? and what does innovation really mean? after you're dead and gone there will be another person that comes along that trumps you. so you become archaic, outdated, ancient history. even if you do get remembered it's for the wrong reasons. you just become a name. and it's not like you'll be consciously aware of people remembering you after your dead. you'll just be a pile of bones. i think the only reason we work at all is because we need excuses that life means something. life is meaningless. i'm really starting to come to this conclusion.