And maybe I hate the silence

After all; I am the silence.

Empty and alone;

full of potential and yet lacking in some way.

Or maybe I hate the noise that fills the silence;

And in a way I am that too.

Exciting yet brief;

Exploding outwards with bravado but yet the bravado will always fall short.

Or maybe I hate them both.

After all, I am both;

Full of false bravado that’s just lacking enough to see the interior.

Or maybe I just hate myself;

After all it’s her fault that I’m false and all her fault I’m lacking.

Or maybe it isn’t;

After all; I only feel this way in the silence.

Does that make it the silence’s fault?

But I feel this in what fills the silence.

So does that make it the silence filler’s fault?

No, no it doesn’t;

In the end it is the fault of both and neither.

It is my own fault and the fault of the universe.

After all, didn’t the universe create silence and it’s filler

Silence and it’s partner

And maybe that means I hate the universe

But don’t we all

Maybe that’s who I hate;

We, humanity

The universe-created silence and it’s partner

But it’s not just humanity that creates silence and it’s filler

It is everything

So maybe I hate living

Yes; that’s it.