I don’t like when people I hate have the same favorite movies as me
and I don’t like when I can’t afford any more weed
and I don’t like when tan girls get naturally sunbleached hair
and I don’t like sushi or wasabi or anime or slouchy schoolgirl socks

I don’t like spicy meatloaf
or that fancy panties are either not made over XL or are 3x more expensive
and I don’t like porn where the girls are spit on
or the men either

And I don’t like when my paint dries out before I finish a section so I have to mix more and then I’ve mixed too much and a whole puddle is wasted
and I don’t like when all my creative ideas are stupid and unorginal
or that the only food I like is bad for me
or that I feel unattractive all the time
and I don’t like complaining about being unattractive because I don’t want to be fishing for compliments
and I don’t like being uncomfortable when I get compliments

and I don’t like being depressed that nobody complimented me when I felt I looked nice

I just don’t want to care
instead of being so fucking negative all the time

But I hate that I’m too heavy and have too small of feet to wear pretty shoes for more than incredibly short periods of time

and I don’t like not being able to afford pretty shoes, anyway

But more than that, I hate doughnuts that have way too much cream
and when I feel ugly and sad but I still want to fuck anyway
and when nobody wants to buy art but everyone wants art made for them
and that I’m apparently developing plantar fasciitis
and that I have a broken filling
and that I cry sometimes but I don’t know why

And I hate that something inside of me will never get over my first boyfriend
or how my current boyfriend told me that the fact that nobody I dated ever loved me before he did is super depressing
or how I can’t stop eating even when I feel too guilty about it to not purge

or how I was traumatized by a therapist when I was 14 and I can never go to a therapist again even though I honestly could use some therapy
and how posting nudes on my blog made me feel empowered but then I felt super ashamed about how someday in the future I’ll probably jeopardize my brother or sisters’ careers
Or that a song from the Requiem for A Dream soundtrack came on the radio at work and I blew a sale by crying

or that I feel jealous of my boyfriend’s ex-wife
And that I’ll never be a grownup
Or a “good person”
whatever that means.

I hate feeling unable to express my pain
or being too dramatic
or needy
or needed
or lonely
or suffocated

I also hate complaining
and complainers
and egg salad with pickles in it. Take it or leave it.