The Classic Art of Hating Yourself

hating yourself comes in various shapes and sizes. for some people it’s just hating their acne. i envy those people. i wish i could only hate on my looks. not gonna lie, i’m a decent looking 17 year old girl. i get attention where it’s really not wanted but hey? men trying to grope you and ‘friends’ trying to take advantage of you while drunk is better than nothing right? but with me, i hate my mind. i’m sure a lot of you can relate to that. my mind is a mansion filled with hatred, hostility, venom and apathy. that’s probably where i differ from some of you. i don’t care about anything. i don’t care what people think of me, i’m all too aware they think i’m a freak that’s addicted to the kiss of broken glass but i’m way past giving a shit now. i’m simply too far gone. my mind is also filled with nothingness. don’t ask me how that’s meant to work. i don’t know. i just know i hate it. i can’t physically have a conversation without either forgetting what we were talking about or ending it because i hate talking. i hate that. my minds some kind of hurricane but an empty desert at the same time. i’ve definitely mastered the art of hating myself. have you?