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Someone else made me what I am.
I want them to hate me for it just as much as I hate them for it.
And we will live in this anger and resentment and they will understand the person they have shaped.
They will recognize that they are not god just because they made something out of my sorrow.
It is an ugly kind of love, for the creation to hate the creator.
It is a beautiful kind of hate, for the creator to love the creation.