This hatred has all but consumed every last ray of light in the cosmos that is my person.

I truly have no friends, beliefs, hobbies. I know no love. I hate humanity so much that I have no enemies. Their pathetic selves do not deserve my emotions. Yet I face evil when I think about certain people, and I smile internally when confronted with others. But the dark cloud of spite rains upon even those gentle souls who formerly provided a reprieval from the hateful judge that lurks....

Perhaps I wouldn't hate if everyone acted according to my will. But I'd fuck things up, things would go awry and I'd hate myself for my errors. Grinding the wheels of change begrudgingly faster, purging those faulty parts of self.

Until there is nothing left but one form of energy, directed toward the demise of its subject. That too familiar crutch, hate.