Peom To Myself (as a broken hearted)

I Hate Myself

I hate myself for being alone. I hate myself for being a loner. I hate myself for watching the Disney Channel when I could be talking to my friends.

I hate myself for being inexplicably in love with a girl who would never love me back.

I hate myself for not being able to let go, whenevery day I swear to God that I will.

I hate myself for crying every time I express these emotions to a piece of paper. I hate myself for crying right now.

I hate myself for not letting my personality come through when I need it most.

I hate myself for trying too hard in everything I do just to watch myself fail in the end.

I hate myself for being a pessimist just so that I can never be disappointed.

I hate myself for knowing my favorite band more than my best friend.

I hate myself for being not smart. I hate the fact that everyone knows I’m not smart. I hate that that’s all they will ever know about me.

I hate myself for emailing a girl I haven’t seen in three years because I don’t want him to think I’m a bitch. I hate myself for thinking too much of people’s opinions.

I hate myself for thinking that I’m better than everyone else, even if it’s true. I hate myself for just typing that because I know (deep, deep down) that it’s not true.

I hate myself for being so ugly. I hate myself for thinking that when someone says I’m handsome, I think that they are just completely lying to my face. I hate myself for almost crying when the woman who gave me a haircut the other day told me I was handsome.

I hate people who tell me I’m handsome. Or have a nice smile. Or have nice hair. While we’re on the subject, I just hate people.

I hate people who say ‘You can talk?’ or ‘Why are you so quiet?’ I hate myself for wanting to punch those people in the face every time I hear them say that.

I hate people thinking I’m sweet and innocent. I hate myself for coming across as sweet and innocent. (I’m not.)

I hate myself for avoiding my friends on purpose. I hate myself for not knowing why.

I hate myself for not being able to say ‘How are you?’ to someone without having a nervous breakdown.

I hate myself for being a show-off, when there really is nothing for me to show-off.

I hate myself because I can.