I hate Bank Holidays. I hate having no credit and running low on free (but disgustingly limited) web texts. I hate not being interested in studying Irish. I hate not being adventurous enough. I hate having no one to adventure with. I hate looking like this. I hate you and your stupid pink skin and your thick eyebrows and your inability to engage in this situation that you put yourself in. And you can’t do your make-up properly. You’re very ugly. I used to think you were such fun and back then you were pretty. But now you’re ugly and smelly.
I hate how passive-aggressive I am. I hate all the music that’s on the music channels these days. I hate how Daria isn’t on anymore. I hate how I don’t read enough (or at all) anymore. I hate this country and this culture and this stupid town.
I hate feeling this sickly feeling in my stomach. I hate missing you daily. I hate that we don’t talk anymore. I hate how much I want to talk to you. I hate other people and their riches. I hate my feet and my eyebrows. I hate the distance. Really, I do hate the distance.
As you can guess, I’m in a pretty crappy mood. Someone please call over unannounced for tea. Please.