I realize that thinking that you hate me is a delusion.

You don’t hate me.


So I can’t.

But I can’t.

I mean

I can’t fix it


I can’t fix it.

My delusions are real neurons really wired how they’re wired.

If I believe you hate me that strongly, I really believe it.

There’s nothing I can do.

I can’t just think the opposite all of a sudden.

That the world is normal and I can read your writing because you don’t even know me to be honest.

Or are cool with me.

Because I haven’t done anything to you.

Oh well.

The truth is.

You hate me.

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