A Hate so Strong

What is it I want from life? I don't want love, or friends, or even family. What have they ever done for me? Ever since I was a young child I was neglected and made into an outcast. The vision of others blurs as they turn to face me and so the way they seem to see me is forever unclear. They don't see me for who I am, they never even try. It was always this way, all I've ever known is hate. What it is I want from life, is nothing more than raw power. I want to make those who hurt me pay, I want them to suffer. I don't want to harbor emotions, I want to be free of them.1

Hands stuffed in my pockets, I walk through the dim lit night. My eyes fixed on the ground, I keep my face hidden from the world. I don't want to be seen, for no one has ever seen beauty in me. I have no one, I want no one. As late as it is, there are very little people, but still the people who pass by me think nothing of me. I am a shadow gone unnoticed as a blend in with my surroundings. I hate each person who passes me. I hate them all with an envious burning, deep down into my very soul. I don't care who they are or what they have done, I wouldn't care if they died, in fact I wish death upon them. My footsteps, almost silent, move at a constant pace. I walk hidden in my mask of insecurity, but who cares about what it is a feel? Who cares about what it is that pains me and what it is that keeps me moving on? No one cares for me and like I said, I no longer want for someone to.2

My once unhindered pace is interrupted by a degenerate girl, who uncaring passes me by and her shoulder clashes with my own. I am pushed out of the way and the girl turns to face me, though still I keep myself hidden. She is beautiful beyond belief, a fragile figure with a soft smile and affectionate eyes. She apologizes for such an act, claiming it to be an accident. I hope she dies. Not because she bumped into me, but because she is so perfect and beautiful. Her head moves to try to reveal my hidden face, in a failed attempt. A gentle finger moves under my chin to raise me head, though I resist, she is the successor. Why she is acting this way, I won't ever know. I gaze coldly upon her, for she had no right to lay hand on me.3

She sees the pain in my eyes, feels the hurt I've endured. I can see it by the way her expression twists, though I've never seen one show such empathy. Her words gentle and concerned, she wonders about the mystery that is me. I unwillingly answer her with brief answers. We parted, though for some reason she seemed as if she hadn't wanted to do so. Why had she been kind to me when no one else ever has? Could she possible be different from the rest? No... It would be impossible, she is one of them. Thats all she'll ever be. I still hate her, I still want her to die. Leave me and never find me again, though you have seen me once, will you ever look upon me so generously again? I doubt it, for no one wants to see me. No one wants to speak with me and no one wants to love me. I could care less. My steady pace returns as I walk, there was something about her.4

Where I was going I would never know, for I had no where to go. I had no place to be and no reason to want to be there. If I die then I die, and if I live so be it. She looks back at me, I feel her eyes on the back of my skull. Again she approaches me, a gentle loving hand on my shoulder. She doesn't understand does she? I want her to leave, I want her to drop dead and rot where she stands. She offers for me to stay with her, I am left in confusion. Overwhelmed with curiosity I accept, what fool turns down warmth when they were destined for the bitterness of night? She doesn't live in anything special, just a small cheap rented apartment. The smell is strange and the lighting is dimmed. It has very little and it is obvious she hasn't much to give. So why was she offering more to me?5

We spoke that night and I learned more of her. She had endured a life similar to my own, but she had made something of it. She hadn't given up hope, and though she had little she still had more than me. I wish her to die even more so now. She had more strength than I, she was given a second chance while I remained in the darkness unwilling to move on. Who does she think she is? She had given me the couch to sleep on and when she left for bed I went into the kitchen and pressed a knife to my wrist. There was no reason to go on, who cared for me? No one still... Sure one had shown me kindness, but I didn't want it and had made that clear. 6

The thin sharp edge of the blade sunk under my flesh, opening my veins and releasing my blood. It spilled out onto the floor and down the flesh of my arm. It soaked into my clothes and it wasn't long before my body was weak and vision as blurry as those who saw me. My body grew cold, and I knew I had finally ended it all, but why now did I regret it? The realization came, I had been given my second chance. The woman was meant to open my eyes, that was our purpose for meeting, but instead I ended my misery. Oh what horrid a day that I would end my life when for the first time I want to live it? I grow stiff and life leaves my eyes. My hand still clutching the blade as my soul leaves my corpse. So here is where I am. A soul condemned to hell and still holding a deep hatred for all but a single soul who'd shown me I was the one who'd done wrong.