Self-hate is a familiar and readily available narrative that I’m well-versed in. I’ve had a lifetime of perfecting the disastrous art of blaming everything that happens to me on myself, even the heinous transgressions of others. It gives me a landing place, a corner to hide in, a certainty to perform. Absorbing all the hate and disdain allows me to relax and not having to constantly watch over my shoulder for incoming attacks. When I’m saturated with it, others would probably leave me alone because I don’t have any more room for damage. And all I ever wanted was to be left alone.