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Reblogged from fuckkmehsideways  19 notes

It’s hard not to hate. People, things, institutions. They break your spirit and take pleasure in watching you bleed. Hate is the only thing that makes sense. But I know what hate does to a man: tears him apart, turns him into something he’s not— something he promised himself he’d never become. That’s what I need to tell you: I want to let you know how hard I’m trying not to cave under the weight of all the awful things I feel in my heart. Sometimes my life feels like a deadly balancing act; what I feel slamming up against what I should do. Impulsive reactions, racing to solutions, miles ahead of my brain. When I look at my day, I realize that most of it was spent cleaning up the damage of the day before. In that life, I have no future. All I have is distraction and remorse. I buried my best friend three days ago, and as cliché as this sounds, I left a part of me in that box— a part I barely knew, a part I’ll never see again. Every day is a new box, boys. You open it, you take a look at what’s inside. You’re the one who determines if it’s a gift or a coffin. By about hate from Sons of Anarchy (via fuckkmehsideways)