Cursed

The realization that I still don't know what I'm doing here put in perspective I am nothing. It feels like something has been wasted, and I am fading. Time is growing against me as I grow tired of being just another soul spent searching for something inside.I hate my fucking guts, I hate desire, I hate lust I hate humanity, I hate instinctively, I hate this fucking world for fucking hating me. The chasm in my chest screams of resounding emptiness. I've never tasted this bitterness, I've never felt this solitude, worthlessness. So what great vision is this to sail amongst the vast indifference? Accept a trail to hollow senses, where only tragedy breaks the numbness. So what great epiphany, will spell out beneath my feet? Chain my wrists, and admit defeat, imprisoned by 'the clarity'. So is this destiny, a doubtful life, feeling empty? Worst of all to make me guilty, blindest of the blind, telling me to see. I might hate this world, I might hate myself, but I won't be a wasted soul, another ghost like everyone else.
-Marty Kirby, Carpathian