Confessions From a Hater.
I am a hater. You know me. The jerk who always makes your life miserable. For no real reason. You think. But that's not true. I have a reason. But I don't want you to know. I keep it inside. Hidden, where not one could ever find it. Ever. But I will tell you. Before I die. You must know. Now.
You're an average person. No more, no less. Just like all but maybe 2% of the population. You aren't ugly. You look like a lot of other people. Really, you do. Your nose isn't that long. Not every guy is attracted to only tall blondes. So what if your short. Or don't really have the curves or the muscles. You do better in school than me.
Even if my grades are higher. At least you have one person that you can talk to. You like cats. Or turtles. You're a vegan. Or you made the big, courageous jump to become outwardly who you know you should be. You are unique. But I didn't want to let you know that.
I'm more physically attractive than you. Wanna know something? Nobody is as good as me. Nobody comes close. Not Taylor Swift, not Mick Jagger, not Ariana Grande, not Michael Straihand. Not Nicki Minage, nobody. I'm so awesome. And I let you know. I made you know that I hated your looks, the color of your skin, your body type, etc. I let you know that I wanted to end you as a person. I never said that wanted to kill you. But I know that deep down inside you wanted to kill yourself because of me and I reveled on that. So I am really a murderer 'cause I wanted to beat you down.
So that is what we both know. But I disillusioned you to think that you are worthless. But there is something that you don't know. I'll bet you could never guess. I made good sure of that.
I hate because I hurt. Yeah, it's crazy. But it's true. I slid down my rope and it ended. So I fell. And now I am a crumpled heap. A sad, sick little person. I may look better than you. Get higher grades. Make more money. Have more muscle. Or curves. But that's about it. That's where it ends. I don't have a family. I don't have a friend. Know those people I hang out with? They aren't friends. We're just a gang. Gangs are just many weak people who join together to form one powerful group. But we don't actually care for each other. Nobody cares for me. I burned my bridges. So I guess that I'll just burn you as well. It gives me something to do. I don't feel so lonely when I am with someone. I like to release the never ending internal hurt by hurting you. I know that happy people like to make other people happy. So I like to make other people sad like me. And it worked. It was an ingenious idea. All I needed to do was to greatly exaggerate the facts so that they became a lie. Or let you know that you are different.
It was just mind control. But now, our little game is over. . . . .
You've moved on. You've proven yourself a good person. Even though you have flaws, just like everyone else. You've had a life to be proud of. Another shining example. But you never saw it. No. You were blinded. By me. I succeeded in killing you. Not outwardly. But inside. Were it counts. You never forgot those insults. But I know that you would forget, and would forgive, but I never apologized. So we both are scarred. Yeah, I said both. You really think that I enjoyed this. That I went from person to person. And I did. You are right. One wasn't enough. But do you wanna know something? Do you really want to know something? Every one of those people came back. Remember that I killed them? Guess what? Their ghosts came back. I see them. Everyday. They look at me. But there is nothing that I can do but stare back. And they have chains in their hands. I know that soon, those chains will be fastened to the walls of a dark, sacred dungeon. And I will be fastened to the chains. Restricted, just as I have restricted you.
Now, I'll confess that these ghosts came not right away. Oh, no. It was a long time. I continued to live, and kill. But my life is a mess. I have my own place. And a car. But nobody to share those things with. People fled from my presence. From my beautiful self, they fled. And left me alone as I always was. But now, it is my time. I lie on my deathbed. I was never healthy. The bitterness inside destroyed what little health that I had. Now, it is gone, and I am dying.
Now, don't pity me. You're wasting your time. You just have to learn from my example. Warn the haters what will become of them. And know the lies that I tell. I take truth and smash it, exaggerate it, make stuff up, and brag. Oh, and I belittle. I wanted to let you know that you were useless. But actually, I was the useless one. I hope that you understand, and pass it on, for it is too late for me. My breath is labored.
The Clown
18 Sep 2015, 11:26 pm
