Hate is a strong word, I don't think I use it very often as the last time I used it, it was used as a method of self destruction as a feeling best described as "Self-Hate". But I want to understand better of the human emotions and use it as a leverage for personal growth and thus I want to explore the heights of hate through writing.
Maybe when I say I don't use it, by means I don't say it. While through understanding I do at times feel hate. Maybe hate out of envy, or I would like to best assume hate towards myself, I never verbally say I hate myself, but deducted from actions of writing, it is coming out of the energy of "the inability to be oneself" as I hate myself. I hate the fact that there are times I can't behave like a normal human being. I hate that I must feel the feelings that I'm feeling. I don't want to be myself at times. The worst part is no one understands me and barely anyone wants to listen.
Based on my previous experiences every time I asked another person "Have you ever hated yourself?" There's always a gist of avoiding the conversation. I know the topic is intrusive yet its what makes the most crucial part of my experience shrieks to be understood. "Am I alone?"
I began to form a shell towards myself through acceptance that "Well fuck, maybe it's ok that no one understands you. Maybe it's okay that no one cares about you. Maybe it's okay that no one wants to hear about the stories when you are sad. Maybe everyone is too busy at whatever they're doing at and that's the expected state. No one opens up to how sad they are and it is to be expected to have a fucking grip."
If that's the normal state then how come everyone acts up if I suddenly kill myself?
No one understands me and I have formed a belief because the only thing that can understand you is yourself.
What if at some point I gave up on understanding myself and just want to commit suicide? The normal state of everyone will continue to to be normal as they will be busy doing at their own stuff again anyway. I am just a number. A patient. If they were to call me as a patient of depression then so be it. Let my death be a number.
Am I the only one who's this lonely?
Am I the only one who's this pathetic?
Why must existing curse me to feel this feelings?
Is it because the way I was raised?
Am I doomed to feel these feelings?
Is this the consequences of the emergent property of life?
I'm writing these articles with the purpose to better understand myself. A lot of people in the past has wrote for the same sole reason, to better understand the human condition. I kept saying it to myself, "Yea there will be so much things to learn about, it's a never ending process but at least you'll understand something new everytime and can create better art!"
Subjective experiences, subjective suffering, subjective meaning. Concepts that I wrote with a belief that it will guide me through life.
Selflessness and Selfishness, the concept of everseemingly acts that could come out of care could actually come out of selfishness.
The analogy of a broken relationship between a powerless child with an authoritarian parent in which the parent will say they care about them and force ideologies or belief that the child doesn't like and would still say that it is coming out of care. Then how come the parent never takes time and energy to listen to the child to know where the sadness of the child is coming from?
Does everyone really only care about themselves?
Does my parent only fear my death because they fear being sad?
Does anyone really care about me?
Is it really the answer that the only person that truly could care about me is myself?
Then what happens if one stops caring about themselves?
I don't even know why I'm sad.
Maybe I'm sad because I don't want to be myself.
I want to be someone else that don't have these feelings.
The one that is not depressed and have a spine.
"But no one understand themselves!"
Then how come they are not apparent to be as sad as me?
"The same way you don't look apparent to be sad to everyone else"
Blackboxes...
Maybe that's a belief I can hold on for now.
Maybe it is true.
What does make people want to live?
Is it because they are able to see the good in tomorrow in which I can't (sometimes)?
I am in the now. I am feeling sad. I am feeling an intense unbearing want of suicide. Where can I buy a razor?
I am an anomaly.
Something that never supposed to happen, yet I happened. People with depression happened. Why must I be cursed with depression?