We walk down the street thinking,
about what the people behind us,
could possibly be saying about us.
We do this instead of minding our own business.

We center the world around us,
like it disappears when we blink.
I have news for you,
not everything has to do with you.

Just because someone is mad,
doesn't mean they are mad at you.
Just because someone is crying,
doesn't mean you did anything wrong.

There are a lot of confusing things about this world.
But none of things,
have anything to do,
with one,
single,
human being.

The world circles the sun,
not some creature,
that is infinitely smaller,
than the world itself.

You better find yourself a new hobby,
because thinking about yourself all of the time,
it isn't good.

I remember a time when I wasn't happy.
I would torture myself for it because I believed that it was my fault.
I would look down at myself like I deserved to bleed.
Like I deserved this pain.

Now,
I'm still not happy.
And it's still my fault.
And I still torture myself for it.
But instead of making my pain appear on my arms,
it only appears in my head.

Have you ever thought about that?
Have you ever thought about how you have no clue what that kid across the table goes to sleep thinking about?
I'm not sure about you,
but I don't have a single friend,
of which I've known long enough to tell what I lie awake thinking about.

It is shameful that I am having these emotional breakdowns almost every night,
but my own mother doesn't even notice.

It is shameful that instead of asking me what it wrong,
the person who should love me unconditionally,
lectures me because I didn't apologize for something I should have.

I'M SORRY.

...all I can say,
is that...I am tired of living this lie.
I am tired of living with a mask on my face.

It is shameful that the human race can't think with empathy instead of thinking about what they're going to say next.

Now, look at what I just said.
I didn't say whites,
I didn't say blacks,
Mexicans,
Asians,
Chinese,
Korean,
Filipino,
Arabic,
Jewi­sh,
Spanish,
Puerto Rican,
I didn't say any of those terms.
I said,
"Human Race".
I leave that with you to think about.

Stephen Hawking.

A man who was revered.
A man who was loved.
A man who was looked to for guidance.
All of these things, but most of all,
he showed the youth of the world,
that there is a way.
That you have the ability,
to become whatever you want.

Stephen Hawking had ALS/Lou Gehrig's disease,
for over 55 years.
He died on the same day that I am writing this.
March 14, 2018.

Ever since I was about 12 years old,
I've been more than interested in science.
This got me exposed to Stephen Hawking.

As I got older,
I started to actually understand what he was saying,
rather than just listen to,
pointless words from a pointless device.

The first subject that I could understand well,
was Hawking Radiation.

I won't get into the nitty gritty,
but it has to do with how the energy,
that a black hole absorbs is expelled.

The point in me saying this,
is not because I want you to know about science.
But because I want you to know,
how this singular man,
affected me.

No.

Affects. Me.

I watched the YouTube video that showed me Hawking radiation when I was twelve years old,
I am 16 now and know what it is,
by memory.

I'm not a genius by any means,
but Stephen Hawking,
he gave me the courage to push forward,
to be eager to learn.

You might not know this,
but in the United States,
kids all around the country,
they are discouraged to learn
due to bad grades,
due to bad teachers,
due to bad funding,
they are essentially taught this,
nothing you do will ever be enough.

Stephen Hawking?
He didn't care.

Granted he didn't go to school in the U.S.,
but he was dealing with a different battle.
ALS is a neurodegenerative disease.
This means that even though he is,
sorry,
was,
one of the smartest people on this planet,
he will be constantly bombarded by a blockade that he can't even see.

This is the same battle in a different form,
that every child in the U.S.,
is facing.

Cyber-bullying.
******-harassment.
domestic-violence.
ph­ysical-abuse.
emotional-abuse.

These are all major causes of suicide.

Stephen Hawking gave us the courage to push past our,
"disease",
to become something better.

How long will it take,
for you to notice?
How long will it take,
for you to find me?

I am sitting in a box,
with a pretty red ribbon,
waiting for you.
But you don't even say hello.

I want you to find me,
because I will never have the courage,
to find you.
Please, find me.

I sit in a corner,
all on my own.
I think of you,
until I realize.

I realize that I deserve recognition.
I deserve gratitude.
I'm not being self-centered,
and I'm not being rude,
all I'm saying,
is that I want you.

And I wish,
that you would want me,
too.

I have always feared,
that I would die,
alone.

I am weightless.
There is no up, no down.

My thoughts are free,
they are evolving and dissolving and revolving around other oxymoronic ideas.

My body is trapped,
it is confined, asinine, and constantly refined to what I believe,
or what I enjoy.

Why is it that every human on this Earth has to be stereotyped?
I want a world where we first ask someone how their day is going,
before texting the first person on their phone that the other person is a ****.

Alone.
It's as if you were a 6 year old's toy,
but now he's 12 and too grown up for you.
But instead of just throwing you away,
his mom thinks of you merely has a memory,
too good to throw away.

Alone.
That's what it's like,
to spend the rest of your toy life underneath a bed,
where the 12 year old,
who's now 16,
will throw all of his trash when he's too lazy to clean.

Alone.
This boy that you gave your life to,
has left.
He grew up and went god knows where.
But no one remembers how you were simply,
left under the bed.

As the sun slowly fell,
I looked upon the world.
I saw destruction,
and I saw chaos.

As anarchy rose,
I looked upon myself.
I saw self-doubt,
and I saw weakness.

As the dying light of day decayed,
I looked deeper into that chaos and anarchy.
I saw strength,
and I saw power.

This power come from within,
but not within individuals.
Instead it came from within,
the world.

The same world that stood by and,
watched the aches,
and watched the pains of others.
The same world that helped the aches,
and helped the pains of everyone.

We stand strong in the midst of chaos.
We stand strong in a losing battle.
We stand strong in the wake of a riptide.
We stand strong in the dying,
of the light.

Together we stand,
together we fall.

War.
This idea of competition,
this idea of fight or flight,
this idea of narcissism,

This is the epitome of,
not human nature,
but inhuman nature.

Humans were given the ability to talk with,
one mouth,
and they were given the ability to listen with,
two ears,
yet we either SHOUT at each other endlessly,
without listening,
or we skip the talking and go straight to fighting.

There is little chance for me,
to become something even close to a fantasy.
There is no chance for me,
to become something that my mother will love to see.

These are the thoughts that my mind swims around in,
constantly.

Every time I look in the mirror,
I bring this doubt into my mind that I will ever be,
enough.

The sixth article of the Universal Declaration of HUMAN RIGHTS states that,
every human on this planet,
has the right to recognition everywhere as a,
person,
before the law.

I believe that the phrase,
"before the law"
should be changed because,
we have changed.

In a different time,
this would have made complete sense,
when the law was held as more of a social construct.

But nowadays,
both men and women are judged,
not for their actions,
but for their appearance as well.

This idea that,
even though we are specs on this planet,
we are impermeable to another's words is,
appaling.

This idea that,
because we are individuals,
we cannot love someone else's difference is,
astounding.

These are the ideas that make us think,
that we are not enough.
make me think,
that we are not enough.

We are filled with this,
want to become something better,
but instead of being better,
we fall down the ladder,
and into this abyss that is filled with black goo,
and this black goo becomes our soul.

It becomes the way we act,
the way we speak,
the way we breathe.

This black goo of endless torture.
It will be the end of humanity.

It will not be the end of life,
but the end of kindness,
the end of happiness,
the end of empathy,
and at that point,
is living really worth it at all?

“Here's to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They're not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can't do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.”
― Rob Siltanen

I am falling to the depths of which none can recover.
I am falling below the state of the human soul.

I have become something no one understands.
I have become something hideous, and horrid.

I am failing to understand the world and
I am failing to understand myself.

I hate myself and
I hate my surroundings.

I am full of this depreciating nonsense.
I don't know where it comes from,
but my head swims in it.
I choose what to say,
carefully,
as if every word might be my last.
But every thought that I have,
is destroying my will to live.

Sorry,
that was incorrect.

It already has destroyed my will to live.

I'm at the age right now,
when parents tell you that you are having,
"Identity issues".

I have news for all of you,
I'm not.
Having.
Identity.
Issues.

It's the exact opposite.
I have found myself.
And I love myself.
It is not unhealthy to love and appreciate yourself.
It is unhealthy,
to change for someone else's benefit.
Yet, this is what most want us to do.

There is a difference between changing yourself,
to affect others in the way that you want to affect them,
versus changing yourself just because they say so.

I have found myself.
I'm sorry if you don't like it.
I'm sorry if we don't share beliefs or ideas or anything at all.

I am not sorry,
for being myself.

And I will continue to live this way.
Believing that I am,
who I am,
and quite frankly,
I am enough.

I don't need your validation.
I don't need your affirmation.
All I need,
is for you to not tell me,
that I have identity issues.

Life.
It is both beautiful,
and hideous.

It is both happy,
and emotionally exhausting.

It is both wondrous,
and draining.

Life is all of these oxymorons,
but it will never stop doing one thing.

Advancing.
Present to future,
no other direction.
There will never be a moment to wake up yesterday.
The only option you have is to advance.

Life is advancing,
evolving,
changing,
organically.

It's like a song you don't want to end because you're afraid that once it ends,
you won't want to start it over.

Life,
it's full of oxymorons.

I am a bird caught in a tree.
This is where I'm meant to be,
but I feel lost,
and without meaning.

I am looking,
searching,
for something original within myself.
Instead, I find that,
I'm only copying someone else.

I don't want to be me.
I'd rather be a bird,
who doesn't have to worry,
about whether or not it will ever be free.

Free from it's own society.

Every time I look into the mirror,
I see a boy,
instead of a man.

Because what is a man,
if he is controlled,
by the beliefs and thoughts,
of someone all the way across the world?

Someone who is typing words into a keyboard.
Words that they think hold no meaning.
But instead,
they make my soul crumble,
into ash and dust.

I am a bird caught in a tree.
There is no where to go for me.
Constantly craving excitement,
but unable to leave my own home.

Will I ever be free?
From my own society?

I'm standing on the edge of a pier,
staring off into the distance.

It isn't a thoughtful stare,
and it isn't a longing stare,
it is a stare of which I posses no knowledge of understanding of the world.

It is the type of stare that a mother has after her husband dies.

It is the type of stare that a child has after their parents' die.

It is the type of stare that I have,
after life has passed me by.

After all of my friends and all of my family are gone,
I am left to fend for myself.
So I just stare,
off,
and into the ocean waves.

As I sat on the riverside,
I thought to myself,
What does it mean to be alive?

As I sat on the bank of the shore,
I thought to myself,
Why do I wake up in the morn?

As I sat in the absence of light,
I thought to myself,
Why am I being ignored?

As a kid I would talk to my parents,
Now, as a teenager,
I don't.

Not because I don't want to,
Not because I don't need to,
Instead, because I don't think I can.

Instead, I write my feelings out on this website.
Instead, I talk to my friends.
Instead, I ignore the insight,
which has been given to me by god.

Maybe they aren't ignoring me and instead,
I am only ignoring myself.

White walls enclose me.
I stare at them intently,
as if they'll do something different.
As if they'll encourage me to become something different.
Something other than this mess that I've become.

White walls enclose me.
Slowly, they get closer.
They shrink around me until there is no room to breathe.
I take in a ragged breath,
hoping that someone will come and break me free.
...no one comes.

White walls enclose me.
I know that I don't enjoy being locked inside this cage,
who would?
But at the same time,
I don't think that I would enjoy being free.
Is it wrong to think that I should be trapped?
That I should be controlled?
I don't think so.

White walls enclose me.
They are so close,
I would venture to say that they run along my skin,
that they are a part of me.
These are the white walls that will forever run my life.
I'm not the only one who has them.
I'm not the first to feel trapped and alone,
even though I know that it is all my fault.
I know that I could break free anytime,
but instead,
I just wait,
staring at
white walls.

Are we equal?
this question has been asked several times,
and it will be asked several more.

If you were to ask me,
we aren't.
No one is equal,
because no one is the same.

If humans were equal,
then you could hire any one of us,
to do the same job.

Should we be treated equal?
Now that's a totally different question.
But still,
my answer is no.

If you were to treat,
a mentally handicapped person,
the same as someone who is not,
mentally handicapped,
it would be considered wrong by the general public.

This is why I say,
that humans should be treated with equity,
not,
equality.
This is also the #1 problem,
with the United States school system.

The quality of being fair and impartial.
This is the definition of equity.
When you treat someone this way,
they stand a fair trial.

But when you teach someone,
the same exact way,
and the same exact material,
that you teach to someone completely different,
it is unfair,
and it is partial.

Einstein once said,
"Everybody is a genius.
But if you judge a fish,
by its ability to climb a tree,
it will live its whole life,
believing that it is stupid."

In today's age,
every single person is expected to be a monkey,
and everyone that isn't,
is judged,
and ridiculed,
for being a fish.

As the sun rises in the east,
the sky fills with light.
Faded yellows absorb the dark hues of the night.
Gone are the blues and purples of darkness.

As the normal person wakes,
they make breakfast.
As I wake,
I ponder my own being.

Am I good enough?
The age old question that has been asked since the dawn of man.
I know the question will never be fully answered.
And I know I will have to live with the ugly truth,
I am not good enough.

As the sun grows higher into the sky,
your life long companion,
your shadow,
disappears.

The normal person is making breakfast,
but I am instead still forcing myself to sleep.
I cannot bear waking up.
I shove my feelings down my throat and force my dreams to appear.

I dream of a time when humanity was defined,
not by what they said on the internet,
but by what they did to help there friends.

I dream of a time when humanity had morals,
had beliefs,
but most importantly,
had love.

The sun begins to set in the west.
The bright colors of day begin to fade into the dark hues of night once more.
This amazing deep orange comes through the clouds in the distance.

The normal person is having dinner,
but instead I am looking out of the window in my bedroom,
which I haven't left in three days.
My heart and mind ache with thought.

My body feels like a waste of space.
It feels like god is taking his finger and pressing down on me.
I feel confined.
I feel detained.
I feel,
drained.

The sun falls back behind the houses in the distance.
Every scrap of light falls into darkness.
Nothing is left of the world.
Everything is consumed by this elusive creature represented by the lack of light.

The normal person is kissing their loved ones goodnight,
but I,
am alone.

While staring into the wall ahead of me,
I think of nothing.
I think of myself; nothing.

I am nothing to the world.
I am without significance,
I am without meaning.

While staring into the wall ahead of me,
I think of nothing.

The thoughts of my mind are burning,
raging with thoughts that have no human nature.

They are degrading,
they are derogatory,
and they are just plain rude.

These are the thoughts that intoxicate my mind,
I am at a standstill with myself and the world.
Do I accept my fate in society and speak aloud?
Or do I shut myself in

Enough is enough.
I'm done sitting in a room of darkness.
I'm done shouting into the void of black.
I want the world to see me for who I am.
For without the controversy of a feeling man,
I would not be what I am.

Enough is enough.
I want the world to see,
what I was meant to be.
I want my creativity,
to pour and pour out of me.
For without the controversy of a creative man,
I would not be what I am.

Enough is enough.
I need the world to relinquish me,
from this undying epiphany.
This epiphany which tells me,
that I am nothing without my pen.
I am this pen,
and this pen is I.
Bleeding ink to page,
while I figure out what next to write.
As though there is nothing to do,
but write.
For without the controversy of a passionate man,
I would not be what I am.

When enough is enough,
you suddenly become,
good enough.

I looked into the eyes of a crying child.
I saw a longing look within this child's eyes.
This is the look of the world when,
all is lost.

I looked into the eyes of a crying woman.
I saw a soul fading into darkness.
This is the look of the world when,
hope is lost.

I looked into the eyes of a crying god.
I saw a master losing hope for this god's creation.
This is the look of a parent,
when their child dies.

I wish for a world where,
nothing is lost,
and nothing ever dies.

I wish for an existence where,
we can look into each other's eyes,
and we can lean in to a hug.
And instead of sobbing to ourselves alone in our bedroom,
we can sob into the shoulder's of one another.

What did I do to deserve this?
It isn't rhetorical, it is a literal question.
If I did something to receive this treatment,
then please tell me so that I can apologize.

I miss having original thoughts and ideas.
I miss being unaffected by societal standards and ideas.
I miss being who I am without having to apologize.
I am who I am, why can't that be enough?

I will no longer apologize,
that is the only thing that I am sorry for.

I am sorry,
that I can not transform into someone,
something you want me to be

I wish it were without pain.
I wish it was just fantasy.
But it's not.

I wish I could say that everything's gonna be alright.
I wish I could give that comfort.
But it's not.

Time is unraveling and there is nothing you can do about it.
You can ignore every stressor in your life,
but time moves on.

Whether you decide that you want to spend every minute of your day,
alone,
in your room.
It doesn't matter.
Because Either way,
time unravels the same.

Has anyone ever felt as sad as I am right now?
Said Jeremiah.
That's the heart breaking,
earth shattering,
bone crushing,
part of a chorus that is sung on forever by humanity.

I am on my knees,
thanking a god I might never get to see.
I am on my knees thanking him for a life,
of which no one wants to see!

We think we are alone,
we think we are unique,
and because of this,
we think that no one else understands what it's like.

Walk a mile in my shoes,
they say.
But they never end up saying that they already have.

This is because they got new shoes.
This is not to mean they don't remember,
sprinting a 5K called life,
barefoot.
This not to mean they don't have regrets,
or they didn't ever find love,
or they didn't ever UNDERSTAND!

...this is merely a saying,
that says they got new shoes.

They took their lives into their own hands and turned around their perspective.

You can too.

"I never expect to see perfect work,
from an imperfect man."

This is a quote by Alexander Hamilton.
Alexander Hamilton undeniably,
one of the smartest men that's ever lived.

It is shocking how much we forget this.
Man, is not perfect.
Wait, excuse me, it's 2018.
People are not perfect.
Your teachers,
your parents,
your supervisors,
they easily forget this.

And it goes without saying that those people,
are imperfect as well.
When will we realize,
that people make mistakes?
But more importantly,
when will we figure out,
how to forgive.

Forgive me please,
if I forget to take out the trash.
Forgive me please,
if I do not do well on a test.
Forgive me please,
if I misbehave.

Forgive us please,
if we mess up.

My mind is running in circles.

It's going from
I gotta graduate,
I gotta make straight A's,
I gotta make my momma proud.

To
I want to smoke,
I want to drink,
I want to die.

It's this bi-polarness that has me on edge.
I don't know if it's school,
or if it's just how ****** up I am,
but I want it gone.

I need help.
And I don't know where to get it.

You are alive.
This isn't Frankenstein where life isn't real.
You are alive. And that,
is the true gift.

You.
Are.
Alive.

With video games where you're reborn,
to movies where life continues in the afterlife,
you are constantly persuaded to believe that,
nothing ends.

Everything ends eventually,
including you.
But as for right now,

You.
Are.
Alive.

You might not fit in,
and you might not be perfect,
but you are yourself,
isn't that enough?

Isn't being alive on a planet,
where it was a miracle for life to even begin,
enough?
If it isn't,
then what is?

107,000,000,000 people have lived on this planet.
and you are one of them.
Take that and run,
or take that and stand.

Speak your mind.
Don't ignore opportunity.
Do what you desire.

Because one day,
you won't have that chance anymore.
You'll be silenced by the epidemic of the universe,
death.

I miss looking into the eyes of my mother.
I miss looking into the eyes of my father.
I miss looking into the eyes of a person who is,
loving,
compassionate,
and faithful.

I miss having a reason to be alive.
I miss having a reason to wake up.
I miss having a reason to be the person I want to be,
loving,
compassionate,
and faithful.

They say that the eyes are the window to the soul.
Can this be true if the eyes belong to someone without,
a soul?
Can this be true if the eyes belong to someone who is not,
loving,
compassionate,
and faithful?

I don't understand why we cry.
I don't understand why we sleep.
I don't understand why we love.
But maybe,
just maybe,
it is all the same thing.

I hope we cry because we are,
loving,
compassionate,
and faithful.

I hope we sleep because we need rest from,
loving,
hold compassion,
and are faithful.

I hope we love because that is what it is,
to be human.

My worst fear is that,
we love because we are asleep.
I miss being awake.

Clear like muddy water,
fluid, but opaque,
is my mind.
With each capsule that I swallow,
I get more and more,
foggy.

Prescriptions as if I need them.
Needing them as though I'm broken.
Maybe I am,
broken.
Maybe I am,
shattered.

Shattered as glass cracks.
In other words,
it doesn't.
Instead, it breaks into countless pieces,
never to be fixed again.

Oh, I'd give anything to be fixed again.
I'd give anything,
to feel clear again.

Life is at my fingertips.
I have ever decision to make on my own.
I can do anything and everything,
yet I've never felt so alone.
I want the control taken from me,
but I want to feel in control.
It sounds bipolar, and vague,
but truthfully,
I want nothing but to lay in bed.
I want to ponder on hours on end,
without thinking of what might've been.
My life lies at the edge of the world,
where no one dares to approach.
Still, I must venture on,
and somehow,
make my legacy be told.

Like a lost soul on a train to nowhere.
That’s how I feel.
Without cause, however never lacking consequence.
Punishment without reason.
And reward being nonexistant.
I feel forgotten as a soul does when it has miniscule effect on reality.

The Japanese have a saying,
we show one face to the world,
one face to our family and closest of friends,
and one face,
to no one but ourselves.

I am lying to you.
I am not who I say I am.
While I am not completely insane,
and I am not a criminal,
I am not as perfect as you see me.

Maybe we're all,
a little insane,
and a little criminal.

But none the less,
we're all normal.

I understand what it means to hurt.
I understand the feeling of blood dripping,
until you don't feel the pain of life.
Yet, I don't understand what I should do.
What am I to do,
when I see scars on my friend's arm?
What am I to do,
when I see someone else swerve the car?
What am I to do,
when I feel like I'm the only person,
still trying to love?

It's that moment,
at 2:00 AM that I fear.
It's that precise moment,
when I haven't eaten for what feels like years.
I feel myself growing weary,
but I don't sleep.
Instead,
I drown.

I drown myself in the tears of my own sorrow.
I drown myself thinking,
"Was there anything else I could have done?"

After hours of this one person pity party,
I think,
"They were right all along."

I fear this moment the most,
not for myself,
but others.
I fear that one day,
this precise moment,
will eventually make my pain go away.

I'm trying to write,
but it's not coming out...
right.
I'm trying to deal,
but nothing seem...
real.
I'm trying all of these things,
yet all I seem to keep doing,
is dream.

I'm running at full speed.
At first, my feet just slide as if on ice,
but eventually,
I gain traction for the run of my life.

The cold when causes my hairs to raise,
and my eyes start to water.
I feel a stream of cold water run down my left cheek,
unknowing that this is the true path to my destiny.

I start to slow down and come to a stop.
I listen for a sound, and feel the drop.
My body goes numb as I flail in the air.
I'm thinking to myself,
"How is this fair?"

All I wanted was to feel again,
all I wanted was to be okay again.
Finally,
I stop flailing,
and take a look around.

I see a man across the void of black that is my mindscape.
I attempt to call to him,
as my thoughts grow dim.
I think to myself,
"This is my fate."

My eyes shut with a slam,
as a man calls out,
"No! Not again!"

I hear his shout and fight to open my eyes.
Now, he's standing before me - wise.
He says,
"Get up. Your fight is far from over.
Get up. If not for me, then for her."

I will my body into motion.
Suddenly, there is no wind,
there is no fight.
Suddenly, I have the power of flight.

I awake in a hospital,
with my wife before me.
I feel a wave of shock come over - and epiphany.

I was running from the sorrow in my mind.
I was running, in an attempt,
to get back to my wife.

With this epiphany I lunge forward,
embracing my wife, whom I missed.
Then, I notice the marks on my wrist.

I haven't written in a while
Not sure why
I've always felt the need to write everything down,
until now.
I'm unsure if I've gotten better,
or if I'm slowly getting worse.
All I know is that I feel weathered,
and lacking the words.
I think I'll try to write more,
maybe that'll help.
Maybe one day,
I'll be able to just be myself.

I've been lost in this ocean of people.
I've made friends,
but they don't know who I truly am.
I've put on a face to impress,
hoping that some day I'll be able to rest.
Still, I still wake up each morning,
hating this thing I've made myself to be,
hating this thing that people know me to be.

How do I change?
How do I say, "enough is enough"?
How do I challenge the world to see me for me,
and still be enough?
I'm not sure how,
but for the time being,
I'll just write everything down.

I'm sitting, slouched over,
on the edge of the world.
It's like a dam, except there's no bottom.
Around me the water flows off of the edge.
And above me, a storm wall between me and the rest of the universe forms.

This is the wall of which I despise.
I am cut off,
without hope,
and without love.
I am cut off from a world which I also despise,
but I think I despise being alone more,
rather than being around people I hate.

Is that an awful thing to say?
I don't know.