And then some days you wake up and realize its not the world you hate, but every particle and ether and cavity and appendage that comprises your body. You realize that your position in life, all those blantantly stupid meanderings were all caused by this subconscious hatred of yourself. The theater's glowing box saps the living wisdom out of your ass. Self inflicted waste. Used to be everything but never amounted to anything. Your eyes never seeing past your nose, even in your examination of other people, hoping beyond hope that their feelings start somewhere similar to our own. The world is a wonderful beautiful place. Its you that's wrong. Its me.
dreu:
If I was your grade school teacher I would make you write "I am not a social outcast" on the chalkboard 200 times.