I wish for a time when things could go my way. I hate you. I do. But you know what? You don’t care. Probably never will. I seriously hate you, like I wish for you to burn down the deepest pit of hell if such place even exists. But you know what? You don’t care. Because you don’t believe in hell. You believe that hell is here. Now. Hell is life. Life is hell. Heaven is an illusion. Hell is a vision.
I hate you. Hate is a strong word. Hate is a passionate term. Hate is something that you say with feelings. Deep feelings. Why? Because you care. And the person that you hate doesn’t. God. What am I even saying? This post doesn’t make any sense. But you know what? It doesn’t have to make sense. I don’t make sense. I’m drunk. The letters are floating from my subconscious mind. From the side of my brain that is neither intoxicated nor sober. It is me within walls that I’ve constructed around me.
I hate you. And you don’t care.
Maybe I should stop hating you. Maybe then should I stop caring.
I hate you.