No matter what, I am just so fine, I can't take it and I hate it.

I hate that I always know what's next. That I foresee events unfolding. That I know what to do with them. That I can always break free.

I hate that it's always so clear. I hate to constantly have reason and emotions side by side, staring me in the face, so clearly apart that the space in between might as well be a thick brick wall.

I hate that I don't need you, any of you. I hate that with or without you, I am a whole person - oh, and did I mention I also know who I am? And I hate that, too.

I hate that I'm always okay, always going to be okay, whether I'm surrounded by hundreds of people or on my own, whether I'm surrounded by happiness or drowning under ruins.

I hate that I am mostly in control, although I'm knocking on wood as we speak because in a way I don't get to call those shots - but I hate that I can't be sick, that I can't even have that excuse.

I hate that down the line it's all so simple I can't even make drama out of it.

Being okay isn't half as fun as being lost. I want to be sick again. I'm tired of being real.