I hate everything that I don’t choose for myself. I hate life, because of that. But even more that life itself, I’m right now pissed off about the holidays. What’s so great about an arbitrary placement of this planet we are living on, merely as a result of some cosmic accident? I mean, what’s wrong with all these oblivious people going around with all this phony merriment? And how dare they expect me to be happy too, just because “it’s a time for happiness”? What in the frakking fires of fifteen hells I’m supposed to be happy about?
Why can’t people just leave me alone?
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