I think the wind hates me. It's always tugging in the direction opposite to what I want and it gives no mercy to my eyes, which are wearing contact lenses.
I think the sun hates me too. Instead of basking me in a pool of sunshine its glaring down at my puny existence. It threatens to melt me into a puddle of my own sweat with its treacherous heat.
I think everything in life hates me. Emotional obstacles are hurled in my way, academic suicide has been committed more times than I can count, and I don't have enough arms to juggle the tasks I need to finish. I just want to toss it all aside and take shelter in my trashy room, with the blinds cut off from the world's troubles.
Or maybe I need to woman up and stop hiding. Maybe I need to remember the laughs and smiles instead of the tears and bloodshed. Maybe I need to remember that there are things worth living for.
But complaining is just too fun to quit.