So I thought those feelings of anger had past. Until I sat down and remembered. Then they all came rushing back, so here I go again. I think I'll start the exact same way I did yesterday for the pure sake of nostalgia. Okay, not exactly, but pretty damn close because I'm not as angry as I was before.

There's this one defining moment in which you realise that it's possible for you to feel so much anger directed towards one person that it can translate into a form of true hatred... Then you hate yourself for even being able to feel this way, then you hate yourself for letting yourself being open to the gritty pain, and then you hate yourself because the one who you hate probably doesn't give two shits about the way you feel, and you're just wasting your time on absolutely zero.

You wonder to yourself, why you insist on putting yourself through the same old shit, over and over again, until it comes to the point where you don't know whether to laugh or cry because of the sheer irony. You wonder how you came to this point, you evaluate every moment that's led up to this point, and the funniest part is that you see things coming, you see them, have a sliver of hope that perhaps you're wrong, but you just always happen to be right. And for once in the universe, being right is not the greatest thing.

You store the bad memories in your mind the same way you store the good ones, run them through your head so frequently that eventually, you forget that it was real because it seems like a nightmare. Sometimes you just wish that things had never happened. Then you feel guilty for wishing that things had never happened because you live by that silly mantra of "regret nothing", since the past supposedly shapes the present. Then you also feel guilty for feeling like complete shit when there are other parts of life to look forward to...New opportunities, but all you can think about is how you let yourself lose control of things, and the downward spiral you've been riding on for a time that's been way too long.

You want to shout a huge "fuck. you." at the top of your lungs, want to kick that one person so hard that they won't want to get up, ever again. Then you wonder if it even matters...if there's a point in even saying "fuck you" because it won't solve one damn thing.

You're tired of caring because it's like caring for a fucking rock...

fucking rock.
fucking rock.

:: Emily 12:51 AM [+] ::