here is a list of things I hate about myself:
1. everything
and no I don't mean it in an emotional way – no. if I did mean for it to be an accurate depiction of a somber emotion, it would be masked behind my supposed mastery of the english language; which is to say that "everything" is not a metaphor. it is not a broken personification bearing some sort of symbolism that really is a outward plea for help and attention. it is not a door, it is a gateway. it is not meant to keep me trapped inside of my head, confined to the highest floor so that the only company I have is the different shadows that move around me as the sun does. my "everything" is not that. when I say "everything" it is an evaluation upon how much I know myself – it is to sieve out the characteristics of human and savage to try to mend together a person. this isn't a cry for help – this is a call of frustration. this is climbing to the top of the tree to find out that the fruits bear poison encased within their skins; this is hate. this is the loathing that I have planted and cultivated to grow into a field with its flowers filling up the places between each bone and twining itself around each muscles so that every move I make is a reminder to hate. to hate is to love. and to love is to appreciate.
so this is not a sad piece, this is a self-reflection.
-dina x
