There is more than enough hate in this world. I wish I didn't contribute to it, but I do. Deep in my heart, I do hate. I hate the state of our world. I hate racism, antisemitism, xenophobia, homophobia, transphobia and misogyny. Oh and climate change. But most of all, I hate Gary's cup. I mean I really, really hate that fucking cup.
There it is. Look at it. Just sitting there. My arch-nemesis.
It looks like an ordinary cup but it haunts my dreams. Or rather, it would if I ever slept long enough to dream. But I do not. Mostly, because of this damned cup. You see, Gary knocks this cup off his bedside table. Every. Single. Night. Every night.
Every single night I am awakened by this cup crashing to the floor. Because it's metal, it sounds like the world imploding when it hits the ground. It is a horrible sound to be awakened by and the moments after I am started out of sleep, I realize what happened and get instantly annoyed that instead of sleeping, I will now be mopping the floor.
Every night.
I fantasize about throwing away the cup, smashing it with a hammer, driving over it. Then backing up and driving over it again.
Someone suggested that I am projecting onto the cup all of my feelings of frustration, that I am displacing a whole host of emotions onto the cup.
I don't think so. I really think it's the cup.
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