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 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.
The truth is.
You hate me.