I hate how stupid things make me jealous.
I hate how I thought I got over being jealous but I guess I lied.
I hate how I can't seem to find a still point, the world seems determined to move so fast I get lost in the vertigo.
I hate howI can't write good things.
I hate how I can't write like I used to, when it wasn't bitching-in-poetry.
I hate how much I hate.
I hate how everything I think is true contradicts the truth.
I hate how I can't type.
I hate how tired I am.
I hate how I've been tired for over a year and it won't stop no matter how much I sleep.
I hate how Im losing control of my body.
I hate how Im losing control of myself.
I hate how it seems like Im always the last to know.
I hate how I can't be anything but half of somethings.
I hate how shes everything I ever wanted to be, and I can't barely admit it.
I hate the lack of trust.
I hate how Im not sure Im a good person anymore.
I hate not know quiet what kind of person I am.
I hate not finishing anything.
I hate procrastinating everything.
I hate how I don't think anyone is going to respond to this.
I hate how my problem is unfixable, or more likely, unhelpable.
I hate my undermotovation.
I hate losing hatrack.
I hate not fitting where I thought I fit perfect.
I hate being held on by the strings of my own stubornness.
I hate that I'll probably never say any of this to the people I need to the way I should.
I hate being behind.
I hate getting that non-physical queazy feeling after saying something.
I hate that its gone, but won't go away.
I hate that I have a project due tommorrow.
I hate the Gods-be-damn clock.
I hate long passwords.
I hate knowing exactly what IT is.
I hate not knowing how to end this.
I hate not knowing how to end things in general, its usually easy.
I hate surtain people being almost thirty and living in Australia when they should be about seventeen and live HERE. (damn him into the ground but hes to cute to be so imposible, or maybe improbably. Maybe if I could criogenically freeze him while I grow up and become a good person, and then let him out when Im twentyish and a bit more legal, so when he gets old I won't have to wait as long to get old with him. )
I hate how some book people aught to be real, just expecially for me.
I hate my stupid english project that could be so much fun if it weren't ten past twelve. I think I might just say screw it and go to bed, and try to ignore the fact i wasted an hour. But I was here, so a waste it was not.
I hate how I have no idea what to say to the bi girl on iam with me who I promised (not unwillingly) to go on a date with.
I hate how Im not sure if I want to go to the sure to be interesting if nothing else party/excuse to have an orgie coming up at my amusingly horny friend's house later this week with the aformentioned bi girl. (hmmm... but its the fuzzy kind of hate that one can enjoy if they are carefully uncareful)
I hate how huge my list of hates has become. (my list of loves can get pretty big too though, so I guess it evens out. Even though my list of loves is twenty-five percent sarcasm...)
Ok, ok, this has been bugging me all day, time to get it off my chest.
HAPPY 29th JACKSON RAINE!
Although hopefully he isn't around here to find it. I have plans for that boy, and most of them involve criogenic chambers and Ausie accents. (hehehe yum... ehem, sorry)
time to go... :(