I was a ball of hate. Of course, you could have split that ball in half and seen the white-hot magma core of fear. That’s what was really driving me. I didn’t really hate them, I really hated myself. I felt worthless, broken, and terrified. Then again, I couldn’t have told you that. All I knew was that I was angry. The complex language of suffering and fear bewildered me when I heard it coming from inside me. I couldn’t express it, I couldn’t translate it. To me it just sounded like snarls and screams, so that’s what I spoke in. Maybe I wasn’t an asshole after all. Maybe I just couldn’t figure
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