As a young man -Sketch 18-

They all want to tear your heart out, I swear they do. They want to tear it out and use it for energy. That’s how women stay so pretty.

I think I was too soft, or too loving, too vulnerable, too honest, too open, too naïve to know how to love the right way.

I use to love women-now I think that I hate them. I don’t hate women because they are women and different from men. I hate women because they hurt me, so much worse than a man with a gun ever could.

A female smile can disarm me and comfort me, and if she so much as whims with the changing winds, she can turn her back on me and I fall to the floor a gapping hole in my chest.

Indeed, I hate women because they seem to hate me. Indeed, even when I loved them they only tolerated me, only enough for me to tell them they were pretty. Only enough for me to give when they were needy, only enough when they wanted a friend like me.


….going down the list of all the women who broke my heart and left me for dead in the streets of rejection and misery

Hate is the product of mistreated love.