More of this

Fuck me.

I’m so god dammed angry
I hate that life returns me to this place
Again and again I come back to this failure
Of wanting something different, happiness outside.

I’m so tired of blaming myself
for these repeated mistakes
If I actually had a sense of choosing,
that would be an improvement.

Yet i can remember such a moment
at least in this pain, a thought on the first
night, this is going to hurt later,
I had no idea.

Yet that’s not here now, only this frustration
and anger at my life and existence
I’m not even motivated to do anything,
just seethe like a child, wishing I were absent

This is a comfortable place of anger,
a tight knot of self-hate that is furnished with
Self-judgment and condemnation.