I hate not being myself,
Smiling when my heart is a broken house of tenderness.
I hate not being fine,
When it is in my power to make myself fine,
But still I am not fine because people always
Have something to say about my happiness.
I hate being controlled;
Being told what to do with my life,
How and where I should live, and
Who to mingle with.
I hate myself for not saying it loud:
That I hated every minute of it,
The walks, the conversations and the moments.
Now I hate myself for acting up, just to keep their smiles.
I hate myself for lying about my feelings.
That I was fine when I wasn’t,
That I was up for it even when
I wanted to do something different.
I hate myself for caring so much more about other people than my own feelings.
I hate how I gave my heart to everyone just to have it back with wounds and stitches.
I hate myself for thinking that everyone loves the same way I do.
I hate myself for thinking that everything can be true.
I hate the fact that I thought there was something wrong with me,
I hate the world for making me think there was something wrong with me.
Now I love myself because I know there’s nothing wrong with me.
I hate the world for making me feel all bad for being all good
And still judging me for being all bad.
I hate the world for not accepting me as I am.
I hate the world for trying to change me.
I HATE THE WORLD