Tortures of the damned.

I used to believe that everyone, after living a certain amount of time, would harbor a certain amount of hatred or resentment toward themselves. I mean, who in their life has met a person that they could spend every single second of 19 years with and not get sick of them? I used to believe that everyone hated themselves to some extent and that it was up to our friends, families, and other people in general to see the good in each other and try to remind each other of that.

I used to think that by now, everyone must be sick of themselves. Everyone must hate themselves.

Now I think that it's just me.