You were born a sweet little baby boy, as innocent as fluffy clouds in the morning. Fragile. As malleable as lump of clay. But you grew up to be this cold man, calculating and unreasonably wicked. And like Tiger Woods and Charlie Sheen, you went to a therapist to ask a question that maybe only you can answer truthfully. What is wrong with you?

Gone are the days when the morning light is as fresh as a baby's breath. Suddenly you find yourself in a dark cell with a little hole that illuminates the ugliness of the little room. You were born a good little boy, you remembered and kept reminding yourself that as you wrestle with the demons within you. With the demon that you sometimes mistaken yourself for. Just when you are losing your battle against the demons, you coax yourself to remember one instance of kindness so that you won't lose your grip on goodness. Surely there must be one. Surprise! You cannot remember any. And you know you are losing it. Slowly spiraling deeper into distance. Giving in to the kiss of a fallen angel, kissing her back, this time with enthusiasm. Why not when this is actually your first kiss?

Isn't it funny how your insane mind can control your life, dimming the sunshine in your eyes? And suddenly a sweet boy learns how to hate so much that he can kill and kick the cadaver of his victim in the face. And then urinate on his grave.
And then you are ashamed of your thoughts. Your wicked thoughts against people you are supposed to love. But wait, do you really love them? Or you just do because that is the ideal that the society stitched into your moral fabrics.

Because you never really learned how to love. Because your concept of love came only from the surface of movies and hundreds of romance novels. Because you never learned it first-hand. Because you never really feel what it's like to be loved without first aking fort it, without ever begging for it.

And while you are in the arms of your new lover—the fallen angel—you remembered the girl. You saw in her the possibility of tasting what really love is because you thought you saw it in her eyes that she is fond of you too. You stripped yourself naked and in your hand is your heart, offering all that you have for a chance to be loved. But she was disgusted by what you did and almost laughed at you like as if witnessing Jay Leno's chin getting stuck in his ass crack. Just like that, all your illusions of love melted away. Just like that, you stopped believing in everything that is good.

Moments later, you saw yourself lining your eyes with darkness. Off you went to the club, drinking the hurt away. Drinking all the good emotions away until you forget your name and wake up under a table somewhere you don't even recognize. You went home and did not recognize anyone. You don't really know them that well all these years of living under one roof. Because you never really talk about sweet nothings. You were just called when the food is ready and then no one asks how your day went. You would sleep the whole day even if you are having your final exam. You do not care anymore about the future, whether you become a somebody or a nobody because you no longer have a reason to live. You do not have anyone to make proud of. In fact, you want yourself to fail so they'll be ashamed of how they raised you.
Hate too, like love, can run deep. Its seed is as fragile as your bones as a little boy. No one uprooted it. So it has grown with you. Its foliage as imperceptible as a white smoke but its massive roots have intertwined with your soul, so huge you are lost in it.

Lamenting the death of love in you. Lamenting that you know in your heart that you won't cease to hate even if they are sorry because it is too late. Too late to forget. Too late to forgive.