I am neurotic. And to steal the neologism, “Edgar Allen Poetic,” I have become quite so. Hatred is no longer a feeling for me, but an instinct. And at moments that I am not liking them, at least, I probably hate them. THEY made me into something I could only avoid for so long. THEY haunt me now. I was trying so hard to conquer my enemies, adjusting to a feeling of carelessness to those people. Finally feeling I could take on anything in my way, because the fear of letting people run over me was sinking, but then I discovered I am worthless! That the people I love are the people in my way. Because I can never tear them down. It is so hard trying to follow twins. An entity in two bodies, because they walk in opposite directions. All people are ugly to me. I have no faith in anything but myself. I had put my feelings and thoughts in you, I confided in you. And it was this that destroyed me. And I’m trying desperately to build myself back into something better. Never trust the Devil, I am neurotic. YOU that betray me will wear this as a blemish