sense of foreboding
i abhore it because it legitimately puts you in a box where no optimism dares set foot in and insecurity is deflected off its four sides. or seats you in a holding room of sorts that is so white and quiet, thoughts bounce off your cortical walls instead. like a postman sorts out mail from his santa sack, i sort out feelings from the heart sac.

i want to complain about myself
i abhore me because what i have is derailing off track and combusting into flames even when i'm supposed to have control. phenomenon of a shrinking portion of the me i used to like.


readers' bias suggests that half of the things i said would not be interpreted as intended
cappie says, "it all depends on the karmicsynergy."