Self Hate

Some days I can’t stop counting
all the ways I hate myself
because of the imperfection of the world
and how I can’t deal with it
and even though I know things
never go as planned
I still feel like an abject failure
when absolutely nothing goes as planned
and I tighten up my hood and hold tight
to the only thing I know, my misery

I hate myself for all of the wrong decisions I make
even when most of them seem right at the time
and many of those prove to be true
It’s just that the world has a way
of twisting your confidence
into a finger-torture that won’t release you
unless you give in and accept
your own perennial failure

I hate myself for ever raising my voice
when my kids were small and I was frustrated
even though I know other people are bad
and hit and scream and belittle
and my version of raising my voice
is a predetermined octave-raise
that most people would consider light
but nevertheless, I beat myself up
ten years later for that same octave

Some days I hate myself for hating myself
which is very confusing and circular
and also meta and very annoying
because it creates a circle of self-mistrust
that spins and spins until I am that hamster
on the wheel and the only way to
keep the world going is by my action

I hate myself even when I love myself
and I love myself more than most people do
Sometimes I am really proud of myself
until I mess up and then my hatred is worse
because I chastise myself for even thinking
I was so good in the first place
As if I was a medal stripped for doping,
my happiness with self is temporary
I always seem to be waiting for someone
to take it away from me and unfortunately,
I’ve just come to realize that
the someone I’ve been waiting on
is me