I hate being alone, I hate social interaction, I hate most other people I encounter, I hate myself, I hate my damn near perennial state of malaise, I hate my indolence, I hate my paralysing fear of opening up to others, I hate my paranoia, I hate knowing that my problems pail in comparison to what millions of others have to suffer through and still being too pathetic and weak to see the bright side of my own and stop complaining about them, I hate how fragile I am, I hate the ever increasing feeling that no-one will ever really know or understand me, I hate being aware that this is my fault, I hate to think of my future and how bleak it appears to be, I hate that my cowardice is the only thing that keeps me alive, I hate the inexorable sense of superiority anyone who bothers reading through this self deprecating tripe will probably feel, I hate knowing that some of them will actually be right, I hate being such a worthless hateful wretch of a person, I hate how much time I wasted writing this shit, I hate the lack of catharsis it's given me. I hate a lot of things...and I hate that this is the case.