Day One

I, uh, well. Why am I doing this again?

Um, I still read them. The things they say. Ugh. It’s madness. Complete and utter madness. I mean, who likes reading things that’ll hurt them? It’s like taking glass shards and chewing them. Okay, maybe that’s a little dramatic but ironically, dramatics isn’t my biggest problem.

Dramatics requires imagination of some sort. I’m not imagining this pain.

My dad’s here but he’s gone. His high is something of habit. Much like mine is becoming.

I wish I could stop. I think I’m an addict. I don’t know.

My grandma’s here but she hates me too. I think. I’m not entirely sure. It’s like she loves me but can’t bear to look at me, which is understandable.

Wait. No, it isn’t.

No matter how long I live and love, I’ll never understand how one can love so viciously the people that hate them or hurt them. My grandma would give her life for me and I make her regret feeling that way everyday.

I’m a piece of shit, I know this.

It’s just a circle you know? My grandma hates loving me much like I hate loving them. I hate it so much. I can’t hate them, no matter how hard I try. I try to convince myself that they’re heartless but they’re not. They have hearts. They love each other, which is great. They just hate me.

Right?