Somewhere between Paulo Coelho and some stupid stories

I've been reading Veronica decides to die and I don't know why, I just feel like I am someone like Veronica.

I hate myself for having the same daily activities. I stuck in a traffic today and at that time I was totally bored of having the same route I had to pass to go home. I hate to have morning classes start every 8 a.m from Monday to Thursday. I hate to meet the same people everyday, to talk about the same topic, to laugh at the same jokes. I hate to sleep every night and to be afraid of the same fears. I hate to have this jealousy every time I see those facey pages telling about their new lives in the USA. I hate to wear this stupid glasses every time I need to see something from distance. I hate to go to the campus for almost everyday. I hate to look around and hope that someone would come and talk to me.

I hate myself for not being able to do something different. I hate to follow the rules. I hate to be stereotyped. I hate to gossiping because that's what everybody does. I hate to be surrounded by people with the same way of thinking. I hate to dress like everyone else. I hate myself. I really do.

I hate myself for being too curious about things I shouldn't know. I hate to find out what's new. I hate to feel superior for wanting to know something that other people may not know or not even think about it. I hate to beg for mercy. I hate to be begged too. I hate to be wished. I hate to look weak. I hate to sound pathetic and dramatic. I hate everything about me.

I haven't finished reading this book, but I'm afraid that the more I read it, the more I got myself sinking into my own hatreds. I even hate myself to write something about this because I know some people who have read it before me, and I hate it because if they read this they would say 'you're overreacting. and the worst of all is you're too late'. I hate to have thoughts like this. I hate to be a hater. I hate everything here.

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