Hateful Feelings

by Mendiza

I wrote this for school, changed a few lines, and it became a oneshot from Wrath's point of view. Based off of the anime version of Wrath.

I want them to die. It's as simple as that. They don't deserve to keep living in their friendly, happy, perfect snowglobe of a world. They should suffer like the rest of us do, instead of pitying us. Our torment is so powerful and eternal, and they don't really care, it's only an outside they've put on to boost themselves up the ladder of life. They look down at us, we who are eternally stuck on the lowest rung. It makes me mad.

Angry, raging, furious.

At them,the ones wasting their lives when they actually got a choice, at the lowlifes around me, sitting in the gutter and wishing for Armageddon. And myself. Mostly myself, really. Why do I have to be this way? I could've been depressed and I would've been happier than I am now. But I'm not. I'm just angry. Anger is redness and blackness and greyness, swallowing up the good things, the parts that somehow make me feel almost human for a moment. It's like that old guy said. People can call us monsters, but it's only when we're faced with the real monsters -for me, the ones inside- that we feel truly human. But it's rarely that we can gather enough courage to do that, to face our personal demons.

It's kind of ironic, actually. When the old guy said that, he was talking about me, or someone like me, at least. And now I'm saying it. This is one seriously messed up world, isn't it?

Sometimes, I try and pretend that I'm always human, that my humanity is just buried under the surface. But really, I know that I'm not human. How can I be? Normal humans can't do the things I do. Normal humans have families and go to school or work and feel loved. The closest I can ever get to feeling loved is -well, lets just say it isn't very close.

I was once. Human, i mean. But I lost that too, when the red came, the inhuman redness and blackness and darkness that engulfed so much. It wasn't my fault, this much I know. It wasn't even him, the cruel, evil one, the thief who stole everything that made me me. Something else triggered it, made me angry. Probably something I forgot ages ago. It's buried in my past somewhere, but I have no idea where it is, or how deep it's buried. This is a ll I know, and all I am.

I am Anger, Rage, Fury, Wrath.

I'm mad.