Most often than not most people haven't much they hate themselves about. They seemed to have more things they hate about other people.
Then we have people who hate themselves in multiple degrees where they either 1. do something about it so they will eventually love themselves or 2. Continue hating themselves and keep bitching about it, so to speak.
Which reminds me about myself.
How much I hated being that wallpaper when I was a teenager, never been looked, needless to say, never been admired. Never been bothered by boys [Except mostly the ones that doesn't fancy me or there is something wrong with them]. Haha.
Then I hated my condition. Hated that I had no money to travel the world. And the freedom to do as I please. Though in my deepest thought, it was no fault of my family I was not born with a silver spoon.
I hated also I had no money to be as fashionable as the then kids. I hated that I could not look as good. I hated that I always had to compromise. I hated that I always had to worry about mummy's expenses when I so badly wanted that pair of LA gear sneakers or even that carrot cut stone washed jeans.
I hated the fact that I can't hang out with the rest of the fun people. I hated that I had to stay home to study and ended up reading countless classics stashed in the storeroom, where no one wants them anymore.
I remember also I hated my friends that my mum prefers. I hated myself for not being able to defend my stance on my preference because my mum's ideals were never mine. I hated the fact that I always condone to her wishes out of filiality despite being unhappy about it.
And so I grew up eagerly wanting to breakaway from all that I hate. I had it figured that all I needed first and foremost is a sound education, decent job to get by and I would eventually change my world.
As I threaded, I hated myself for being week emotionally and mentally. I hated that I was raised in such a cocooned world that my survival instincts were not as shrewd and fast as those around me.
I hated that I allowed them to hunt, hurt and burnt me. I hated myself to be effected by their selfishness, arrogance and manipulation. I hated myself for being stupid and weak.
At the same time, I hated myself for being so ambitious. Because it is those ambition that I have no choice but to endure and learn from the mistakes and bully.
I also hated myself and still hate for being stubborn. Insistent, and lack of a better word, unrelenting. It is these qualities that equates my constant struggle and to some extend resulted a stone hard cold, indifferent me.
But it is these hates that prevail me against everything else.
But in return of the changes I have made to my life, I now have new hates about myself.
I hate being able to hate deeply. I hate being able to live by hate which harness my fire to prove myself over my worthiness to whoever or whatever. I hate that as always I will hold it to the very end, in triumph and then ensuring I mince the challenger to grains and that it never ever would dare come near me again.
I hate myself for the talent with words. Because I have known to be ruthless and unforgiving with them. I have hurt and killed goodness with them.
I hate myself for not allowing people space to treat me lesser. I hate myself for the ability to discard such people so conveniently out of the window the moment I feel betrayed. I hate myself for being able to do it without a bat and could live and sleep through like it was nothing more than a speck of dust.
I hate myself when I could love deeply as much as I hate deeply.
I hate myself that I could laugh heartily yet cry painly.
I hate myself that I have grew up compromising perfection. I hate myself even more that I now have resentments, towards people and things.
I hate myself for hating these... :-)
Then we have people who hate themselves in multiple degrees where they either 1. do something about it so they will eventually love themselves or 2. Continue hating themselves and keep bitching about it, so to speak.
Which reminds me about myself.
How much I hated being that wallpaper when I was a teenager, never been looked, needless to say, never been admired. Never been bothered by boys [Except mostly the ones that doesn't fancy me or there is something wrong with them]. Haha.
Then I hated my condition. Hated that I had no money to travel the world. And the freedom to do as I please. Though in my deepest thought, it was no fault of my family I was not born with a silver spoon.
I hated also I had no money to be as fashionable as the then kids. I hated that I could not look as good. I hated that I always had to compromise. I hated that I always had to worry about mummy's expenses when I so badly wanted that pair of LA gear sneakers or even that carrot cut stone washed jeans.
I hated the fact that I can't hang out with the rest of the fun people. I hated that I had to stay home to study and ended up reading countless classics stashed in the storeroom, where no one wants them anymore.
I remember also I hated my friends that my mum prefers. I hated myself for not being able to defend my stance on my preference because my mum's ideals were never mine. I hated the fact that I always condone to her wishes out of filiality despite being unhappy about it.
And so I grew up eagerly wanting to breakaway from all that I hate. I had it figured that all I needed first and foremost is a sound education, decent job to get by and I would eventually change my world.
As I threaded, I hated myself for being week emotionally and mentally. I hated that I was raised in such a cocooned world that my survival instincts were not as shrewd and fast as those around me.
I hated that I allowed them to hunt, hurt and burnt me. I hated myself to be effected by their selfishness, arrogance and manipulation. I hated myself for being stupid and weak.
At the same time, I hated myself for being so ambitious. Because it is those ambition that I have no choice but to endure and learn from the mistakes and bully.
I also hated myself and still hate for being stubborn. Insistent, and lack of a better word, unrelenting. It is these qualities that equates my constant struggle and to some extend resulted a stone hard cold, indifferent me.
But it is these hates that prevail me against everything else.
But in return of the changes I have made to my life, I now have new hates about myself.
I hate being able to hate deeply. I hate being able to live by hate which harness my fire to prove myself over my worthiness to whoever or whatever. I hate that as always I will hold it to the very end, in triumph and then ensuring I mince the challenger to grains and that it never ever would dare come near me again.
I hate myself for the talent with words. Because I have known to be ruthless and unforgiving with them. I have hurt and killed goodness with them.
I hate myself for not allowing people space to treat me lesser. I hate myself for the ability to discard such people so conveniently out of the window the moment I feel betrayed. I hate myself for being able to do it without a bat and could live and sleep through like it was nothing more than a speck of dust.
I hate myself when I could love deeply as much as I hate deeply.
I hate myself that I could laugh heartily yet cry painly.
I hate myself that I have grew up compromising perfection. I hate myself even more that I now have resentments, towards people and things.
I hate myself for hating these... :-)
