Sleep, Physicality, Resentment

I hate having a physical form. I hate eating. I hate drinking. I hate having to go to the toilet. I hate having to shower. I hate moving. I hate sitting. I hate laying.

I hate feeling warm. I hate feeling cold. I hate feeling pain. I hate touching things. I hate the bright lights. I hate the loud noises. I hate strong smells. I hate the bitter tastes. I hate the feeling of my clothes on my skin. I hate the feeling of my hair on my head. I hate the light of the sun. I hate thinking about my health. I hate thinking about my teeth. I hate squinting to see the on-screen graphics when I’m watching the race.

I hate having a sleep disorder. I hate having to sleep in general, but I am cursed to never train my sleep to the light. I will never be able to go to bed at the same time for more than three days in a row. I will never be able to schedule anything for more than a few days in advance. I hate it.

I want to program. I am a savant. I want to do nothing but design and write code, forever. I hate being reminded that this isn’t possible, every time my hands hurt. I hate being reminded this isn’t possible, every time my fingers miss the keyboard. I hate being reminded this isn’t possible, every time I need to sleep. I hate the noise of my computer fan. I hate the noise of my keyboard. I hate the colour of my monitor. I hate that I spent so long refining my skills at this and have nothing to show for it. I hate that this is my skill. I hate that it’s so useless. I am a middleman, a designer of interfaces. I move things from place A to B. There’s no recognition for that. I hate that I’m too good at programming to do anything else.

I hate wearing short-sleeved shirts. I hate being looked at by people. I hate talking to people and constantly forgetting words. I hate talking to people and constantly saying the wrong words. I hate not being able to hear what people say. I hate not being able to understand what people say. I hate that I’m not awake to hear what they say anyway.

I hate caring about the things I care about. I hate that nobody I know cares about them too. I hate that nobody has the same level of enthusiasm for anything I like. I hate that people stop talking to me at random. I hate that I am always the second best friend. I hate that people think I don’t understand what they’re doing.

I never had a bad childhood. I never had anything bad happen to me. I never got hit by a car, I never had a bad illness. I am like this independently of my history. I was a good student. I was top of the class. And then, one day, a cosmic ray hit my brain and now I can’t fucking sleep.

I hate that I can’t hold an emotion for more than 20 minutes. I am never happy for more than twenty minutes. I am never sad for more than 20 minutes. The only consistent feeling I have is resentment. I hate that I feel this way.