I hate my life. I hate what I am, what I've become. I hate that G. has so much effect on me. I hate that I love him. But even more, I hate the fact that he knows it. I hate that I hurt myself because of my pain. I hate the blood that runs down my legs. I hate the knife that leaves scars on my body. I hate the fact that I can't stop. I hate crying myself to sleep. I hate my tell-tale puffy eyes when I wake. I hate having to convince myself everyday that tomorrow means new beginnings. And I hate knowing that tomorrow will be the same.