I hate you.

And why shouldn't I? You make me feel like shit. No, worse than that you make me feel like nothing. And I think that I'm ready to believe you. I cannot respond the way you want me to: the way anyone else should. I'd prefer to be a rock. You would like me as a rock or at least put up with my benign existence. As a rock I could be just an ordinary stone wedge in the dirt or smoothed by a stream, never wanting to be anything more, never expected to be more than I am. Round or jagged either way I fulfill my purpose. I wish I was a rock.