I had an epiphany and my epiphany is this.
I don’t need to pretend to be who I want to be.
I don’t need to dress myself up every morning in designer labels.
I don’t have to hide my shame behind the folds of consumerism and excess and brand recognition.
Because that is all that you bring me, shame.
I don’t have to find a reason why that was my fault, or why things turned out so badly.
You’re the reason why.
When I hold myself accountable for the atrocities committed against me by others it debilitates me from ever growing and this reflection is but a haunting shadow of cowardice.
Chocolate milk is tasty.
Is it alright to hope that you die a torturous painful horrendous death?
And at the same time wish you the best.
…but really I still sort of hope that your life ends as poorly and quickly as possible.
We are such conflicted creatures capable such a vast array of complicated emotions.
I suppose I can only stop questioning and start accepting that conflictions will follow me throughout my life
Because I am human.
But I would still kill you.
It was out of mercy, I swear.
So no other being ever had to tolerate your pathetic excuse for an existence.
There is no longer a middle ground, it’s as if seeing above and below at the same time.
It is confusing in its own right, and peculiar in its contradiction.
It’s a wonderful feeling.
