Confessions of a Muteful Hater: Not For Under 18z

Some may describe me as quiet and as one who does not stir up manure no matter the situation or circumstance and they wouldn’t be wrong in their observations as I am for the most part a placid little fucker

But there’s a particularly dark corner of my psyche in which hate and anger glows hot with excited indignation at all things alive or inanimate

Don’t tell me it’s my grandmother’s birthday, don’t ask if “I know how to warm” certain food because the microwave is crocked (I wasn’t born yesteryear)

Don’t make assumptions; don’t tell me you’re “sticking to your own truth” (for fucks sake what the hell does that mean??? Are there two thousand truths and you’re the ring leader of this idiocracy?) – Fuck off.

At times I feel guilt about my private little explosions because their content is so vile they would leave many a anger-therapists in a coma of disbelief

(mind you all of this rage is kept inside); I curse and curse and curse and wish the most vile things would befall those around me and politicians most especially (next to pedo’s and rapists, and general thieves)

I Hate with greater passion than I Love. One could say I love not at all. But oh hate; yes, I can taste it on the tip of my tongue.

When I was cheated on; I imagined things which have burnt a picture in my head to this day about my former lover (although I am without resentment towards the cheater now)
It is, admittedly, a good thing that all of this volcanic ire remains within.

I’d be a vile creature (much like those I despise) were it anywhere else.

[All things considered. I’m a full blown Humanist] ( 😀 )

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