An Open Letter

I don’t like to say things like this, as I fear that I’ll believe it more. But I kinda hate parts of myself. I don’t say that word lightly either. But I fucking hate how I react to certain things. Why can’t I be rational and logical about these things that seem to just constantly hurt me over and over again? I know that I’m human, and that’s just how the brain works. But fuck.

I feel fucking alone. Over and over again. I find myself surrounded by people but for some reason, I just sit here alone. I regret not pushing myself to invest in other people at the start of this quarter. Now in my classes, I just feel unnecessarily alone. Why did I waste more time on E. But also I can’t even blame them, this is my own fault and own doing – even in my other classes, I did the same thing. I just want to be alone, and I want to be able to hate myself for that.

I want to hate myself for the way I feel when I step away from people and instantly feel that wave hit me. Or that feeling when I just see something that hurts me for nothing else than a memory of a scar, and how I shut down and put up the walls. It’s like the worst episode of Attack on Titan. Haha, joke. I don’t even know what it means. I hate the way my brain doesn’t think straight anymore. It’s probably because of the consistent lack of sleep I hate myself for. I hate how I take such long showers and waste what little time I have. I hate how I sit there just doom scrolling on my phone. I hate how I watch youtube when I go to eat, or how I like to eat alone. I hate how I feel sad when I get rejected when I go out of my way to try to do nice things. I hate how much I pity myself. I hate the way I think I’m better than people while also envying them. I hate how I’m self-aware of a lot of my problems, but not good enough to know how to fix them. And I especially hate myself for the things I know how I could fix, but I just don’t. Because I’m afraid of things. I’m so afraid of things. I hate how I put off calling back General Atomics to schedule an interview because I was afraid. Afraid of nothing. And because of that, the lady on the phone was caught off guard and even said she didn’t think I’d call back. I hate how I didn’t get an internship last summer because of how incompetent I am. I hate the way people always consider me smart or good at academics, because of how much I feel like a fraud. I can’t think of anything I do well. I just hate myself for it all. I hate myself for not being better than my sister growing up. I hate how I wasn’t a FACE student. I hate how I didn’t get a fucking signed letter by a senator for academic achievement. I hate how I wasn’t good enough to get into berkely, even though most of my friends did get in. I hate how I don’t have that many old friends like other people do. I hate how I don’t feel grateful for the friends I do have. I hate how I constantly compare myself. I hate myself for what happened to me as a kid. I hate myself for letting it happen. I hate myself for surpressing it for so long. I hate myself for not being able to cry for years. I hate myself for not getting into the GATE program that one year. I hate myself for getting a 3.5 freshman year. I hate myself for getting only a 1510 on the SAT. I hate myself for not getting the 36 on the ACT. I hate myself for not getting a 5 on APES. I hate myself for not doing more extracurriculars. I hate myself for the way I look. I hate myself for the way I looked. I hate the way I smile. i hate the way I dress. I hate tehw ay how I have no energy to do anything. I hate the way I put up a mask or facade when I struggle. Ih ate how I never feel like I have space to ask for help outside fo therapy. I even hate thee way how in therapy I feel like Im’ burdeing her and not even being a good client. I hate the way I’m aware of the fact I’m paying her for this. I hate how much my dad does for me. I hate how little my dad did for me. I hate the way I sat in the hospital bed alone. I hate how I only messaged Ashley something unrelated. I hate teh way I lie. I hate myself for wanting toa lways tell the truth. I hate myself for the things I think.I hate myself for the things I forget. I hate how I always forget things. Ih ate myself for doing this stupid shit where I put my problems or thoughts online. No one gives a shit. And I hate myself for thinkign anything could be different. I hate myself for being so vulnerable online because it feels like there’s no where else to put this. I hate myself for always feeling this way. I hate myself for thinking I always feel this way. I hate myself for thinking about how it’d feel if people saw this that I don’t want to know that I feel this way. I hate myself for how I can’t make coherent sentences anymore. I just sit there and look at nothing nowadays sometimes. I sometimes close my eyes when I walk forward to see how long I can walk before I hit something. If I can trust myself to open my eyes in time. I hate how on dating apps I never get any good matches. Ih ateh ow I’m single. Ih ate seeing how it feels easier for everyone else around me to get into relationships. I hat ehow I think I’m also wrong in that. I hate how other people are happier than me. I hate how as an elementary schooler I thought aobut dying and wanted to. I hate how I couldn’t speak up or take space for myself. I hate how I hurt the poeple around me with my actions and shortcomings as a person. I hate the way it hurts my chest so bad but even then I hate how I’m lying. It hurts. It doesn’t feel like im going to die. It just hurts in pangs.

I hate myself for so many fucking things. I can’t fill up a list of how I love myself like this.

I hate how I wasn’t hugged or touched as a kid. I hate how I’d go weeks at a time without even touching anything living. I wish I could have just came home and broke down crying in my parents arms. But instead I would sit there and keep quiet. I’d take showers for as long as I could, and just sit on the bathroom floor. I’d just sit there and let the water hit me and I’d stare at the wall for hours. And when I’d finally have to get out, I’d sit there on the floor naked with my head between my knees infront of the heater. That was the closest thing I had to a companion. Or a parent. or a fucking human. That little centralized piece of heat. That was the only family I really felt I had. I’d sit there and it would blow the warm heat on me, and it’d almost do as a substitute for someone hugging me. It got so bad, that in highschool on the rare occassion someone would hug me I would physically go numb. I couldn’t remember the feeling. I still think about it, J once hugged me after I told her I wanted to be hugged so badly, and my body shut down. I stood there and felt nothing. Nothing. Nothing. I remember the moment, but I didn’t feel a thing. It still kinda happens. When I get hugged my memory just stops for a bit, and I can’t really feel as much as I’d hope. I guess maybe that’s why I want to be hugged or held for a while. I can barely think of any memories of being hugged, let alone how it felt. I guess that’s kinda why I like when people hit me. Obviously not hard enough to injure me, but that pain does feel nice. Because I can hold onto that and remember that. I like it when friends hit me. I feel that stinging for a bit, and my brain can’t shut that out. How funny is it that’s how it works.

I don’t hate myself that much. But I hate things of me. I find it hard to find parts of me to love. Everything feels like a performance I do for other people for them to like me, and when a mirror gets put up and I see my acting I hate myself for it. That’s why I hate hearing my voice. Or seeing myself. It reminds me of who I am and the person I hate. Why can’t I give myself the love I give other people. I can’t think of a single person I hate other than myself.