I've found that i am grossly attached to people who hate. Typically themselves. Who wallow in self doubt and stay up late counting the reasons they despise their beings. The kids who drown their demons in Jack Daniel's.

**** it. We're all pretty much the same. Hatred; sadness hidden beneath scarred on smiles. But isn't that the truth behind the great american dream? The glory beneath the guilded age?

And yeah, i think i romanticize it a bit. Though i know that scars are disgusting when your body intertwines with another, and ***** tastes like acid; i still somehow think that there is a beauty in sadness. Shining a light through a dark cave. Surviving your demons. There is strength and courage. Because that's what it takes to survive your mind.