Demons

Growing up I’ve always thought of myself as selfless, down to earth, loyal and well, a good person.

But I’m not. And I’ve come to learn this fact in the past year or so. I’ve done things that a good person wouldn’t do. At first I told myself that I’ve made mistakes and it’s okay cause everyone makes mistakes. To err is human. But it’s not okay if making mistakes becomes a bad habit.

I don’t even know who I am anymore. I don’t feel anything when I hurt the people I love and care about. I don’t even know if this body of mine even has a heart.

I hate who I’ve become. Who I’ve actually been all this while. And right now, all I’m wishing for, is to feel the same pain I’ve caused so many others.

I despise myself.

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