You know what I hate?

    How I can never manage to snuff out that last little glimmer of hope in the depths of my cold, black heart. It's maddening. Because no matter how much I know I'm not going to get something, the tiniest part of me still thinks it's possible—AND I HATE IT!!!!

    You see, the problem is it is never possible. It most likely never was. So all the hope does is torment me—gnawing away, growing despite the number of times I step on it—until I accept it. Then, once I find out what I knew all along, my rage and despair is all the greater, not because I had hope snatched away from me, but because I knew all along and couldn't listen.

    They should have concentration camps that you can go to if you don't want to feel anything anymore. The ironic thing is I wouldn't be able to afford it…