Interval

--

I'm at that point again.
Slap back exactly where I was three years ago.
Only this time it's worse.
It's more serious.
I'm deeper into it all.

I'm fucked off with the whole situation.
I'm fucked off with whats happened.
I'm fucked off with what I've done.
I'm fucked off with what I've become.

I've made things worse.
Which I really didn't think was possible.

I can't even talk anymore.
I could talk three years ago.
I could communicate.
I was an actual person.

Now I'm nothing.
I'm a fucking statistic.

I really cannot describe how much I loathe myself right now.
How fucking pissed off I am with myself.
I just want to rip my skull off and slap my brains about a table a bit.

I'm useless.
I'm a failiure.
I cannot do a single fucking thing right.

No matter how much I try, I always fail.
I fall at the final hurdle.
I generally fuck things up.

Everything, big or small.
I crash and burn.

As I sit here waiting for the elastic to snap, waiting for this pathetic excuse for a life to consume and swallow me up, the only thing I feel is hatred.

I hate myself.

I've never hated myself properly.
I've hated my life.
I've hated things about me.
I've hated things I've done.
But I've never hated myself untill now.

As of this moment I don't have one redeeming quality.

I've even practically thrown away the one thing worth living for.

Fuck it all.

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