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"I don't like people."
It was a simple fact, not even worth stating as much as it was an observation. A statement of fact.
"People are assholes," I said to myself without really thinking about what I'd just heard. This was in my room at the end of our street, where you could look down from our porch and see our neighbours' houses, but no one would be able to see us. I had a big blanket over me that covered most of my bed, and I was curled up with my eyes closed. My ears twitched in rhythm to the words I spoke silently inside my head.
"They're greedy, they never do anything for anyone else. They don't understand loyalty or compassion or love, because it's impossible for them to have any. And they think other people owe them something—that's right, people are assholes, so it's okay to hate them." My voice trailed off, and then came back stronger when I continued. "They're assholes! That's right. They deserve everything they get!"
MRock · Kỳ huyễn
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