Growing up,
I thought I needed friends.
A special someone
to guide me through my darkest days.
To shun the light of self-hatred
when it arises. 

And to together
we would grow and prosper.
Upon pedestals of drunken power
and ignorant self-righteousness
We would laugh at the world.
Me and that special someone. 

But.
No matter how many times I reached out.
No matter how many tears I shed.
There is no sunshine in my life.
And the darkness pours over me like rain.

Self-hatred is a blissful thing. 

Are you still reading this?
You should be out hiding.
Fearful of what the lonely ones will do to you.
Of the truth that you so graciously avoid.
Because I have nothing and no one to lose. 

But...
I have just that.
I have nothing.
And I have no one.
I laughed at the world.
But when will the world laugh at me? 

And I hear it.

Their laughter lingering in my ear.
Six billion idiots screaming in my face.
Mocking my presence.
But I’m grown now.
I don’t have to listen. 
Just feel it.
Sinking down into my pores.
Twisting my mind
and wrecking my soul.

It’s so dark now.
And lonely.
And cold. 

Growing up.
I wanted to laugh at the world.
But I had too many tears,
and no one to call my own.
Now I am nothing.
But that’s okay. 
You twisted my mind
and wrecked my soul.
Self-hatred is such a blissful

and suicidal thing.

cori graham