idiosyncrasies.

I'm really good at pretending to be okay. I smile and laugh with you, maybe even talk. But it's a lie, a facade to keep you from seeing my real self, my bloody face, my empty eyes. A wall to keep the questions out. Sometimes my reality seeps between the cracks, revealed by my actions and speech, but in reality, you know nothing. Don't even pretend to.

I'm excellent at making you think I love you. I say it, but the words stick in my throat like cobwebs. Dry. Empty. I may have loved you at one time or other, but you stepped over the line. You violated your boundaries, destroyed the fragile windows through which I was happy to see you. Now I see you through my reddened eyes, my rage. I talk to myself when I see you. Say I hate you, call you names I would never dare to speak, in my thoughts. You fool.

I'm great at making you feel like my friend. I smile when I see you, embrace you back, but I don't mean it. In reality you mean absolutely nothing to me. It's all your fault. You ignore me, you make and break promises. In reality, you do the very same thing as me. You hate, you lie, you deceive. Don't imagine yourself in your self-centered cloud of perfection. You are worthless garbage. Welcome to my world.

I'm wonderful at many other things, too:

• Arrogance
• Vanity
• Lying
• Causing pain
• Ignorance
• Worthlessness
• Doubt
• Anger
• Hate
• Sadness
• Running away
• Laziness

But what I'm truly best at is making everyone hate me.