I have run out of reasons to hate myself tonight
I'm sure I'll wake up with more in the morning

But for now, a stony silence has fallen upon my brain
so otherwise self-obsessed with self-hate.

I do not recognize the stranger in the bathroom mirror
and although he appears too tired and sad
to be any sort of handsome
he doesn't look as ugly
as the man I normally see standing there looking back
always so tired and sad and confused
and ugly.

So ugly.

So ugly, save for tonight.
For I have been set free from those intrusive spirals
the burdened repetition of every unfortunate thing
the burdened repetition of every petty thing
the burdened repetition of every monstrous thing
the burdened repetition of every made up thing
I have ever said, done, thought,
or been forced by demonic circumstance
to bear witness to.

For once I do not dread the thought of another day.
I am not crippled by questions of how exactly
I will grind through it all.
All the things that I must do
that I will inevitably not do.
All the promises that I have yet to make.
All the promises that I have yet to break.
All the lies that I tell myself and others
so as to briefly pretend
that I am capable of living
that strange thing
called life.

I am sorry.
I am ashamed.
I hope one day to be forgiven.
Or at least I hope for more nights like this one:

far too sad for sadness
far too tired to sleep
far too unhinged to remember to forget
that everyone, myself included, deserves to be loved.

I have run out of reasons to hate myself tonight
I'm sure I'll wake up with more in the morning