I hate myself. I hate my mind. I hate my body. I hate the way I speak. I hate my emotions. I hate my physical feelings. I hate my life. I hate my writing. I hate my thoughts. I hate the disjointed voices. I hate the way I walk. I hate the way I move. I hate the wayi eat, if I do at all. I hate the things I read. I hate the taste of my own blood. I hate my cheeks. I hate my teeth. I hate my torn up fingers. I hate my scars. I hate my bruises. I hate my hair. I hate my eyes. I hate my smile. I hate my lips. I hate my nose. I hate my diseases. I hate my depression. I hate my suicide. I hate my ADHD. I hate my anxiety. I hate my rumored schizophrenia. I hate my memories. I hate that people like me. I hate that people love me. I hate that people hate me. I hate being alone, but I hate being social. I hate the things I draw. I hate the things I talk about. I hate the treatment I go to. I hate how I try to help. I hate the things I learn. I hate my pain. I hate my blindness. I hate my voice. I hate my hearing. I hate the bracelet that pinches me. I hate the nise it makes. I hate the way the metal smells. I hate the bile in my throat when I feel guilty or scared. I hate the way I bite the inside of my mouth to bake myself bleed. I hate when I scratch and don't remember. I hate the way I shake when I cry. I hate being comforted. I hate when people talk to me. I hate wanting to go on even though I can't. I hate wanting to end this. End it all.