Mom and Dad haven’t spoken to me in years. I don’t care. They never cared, so why should I? It doesn’t matter. Nothing does to me. I yelled at a kid today. She burst into tears and ran off and I got a pinched glare from her mother. I don’t care. It made me happy, to make that kid cry. Better her than me. Better I hurt her, instead of the other way around.

Someone decided to preach to me about kindness and faith today. I wanted to wring their scrawny little neck. He was probably a hypocrite anyway. I’m not, that’s for sure.

Bastards.

Humanity. I hate it. I hate humanity; my humanity, and everyone else’s. It makes for useless husks. Killing the world. We’re a plague. I’d like to see us all fall into the pit we crawled out of. Fools. Useless, pathetic fools. All of us. I’m not immune, I know my faults and failures, that’s all we are.

No one likes me. I bring them down, they say, turn moods sour. Good. Why should we be happy when all we have to look forward to is death? Doesn’t matter what we do in life, we’ll be dead regardless.

I hate them all.

Someone smiled at me today. The nerve. What would that gesture show? Kindness? Affection? None. He doesn’t know me. My words were quick and sharp after that, I hardly controlled them. The devil inside, that vivid clarity that lets me see the world for what it really is, gives me my words. It made him cringe, though, and back away. I think I scared him.

It’s cold today. People bundled up in fake fur and drapes. If we were made for cold we would have thicker fur in more places than on our head. It makes me sick. I just hate it. I hate seeing others surviving when natural selection should have just killed them long ago.

Why are we here?

It doesn’t matter. I’ve never felt love. I’ve never felt a moment’s happiness. I thought I could gain some away from home, away from the source of my pain, but no matter where I went, pain followed. It clung to me, like it clings to me now. I had no friends, no one to relate to, and no one to share my misfortune. People avoided me. They whispered about me and my... my oddities. How dare they? How dare they...?

I never hated them before. I never condemned them for what they believed. Why should I have to endure that? Why do I have to deal with intolerance? All because of my stupid, bastard parents. It’s their fault!
Their fault...

I’m sorry.

I never should have acted the way I did... The way I do...

It’s my fault. I missed out on so much because I just couldn’t look past my own bitterness. And now I can’t get those chances back.