A master plan

I'm trying to say something positive, think something nice, do something good. But all that is coming out of me are random clogs of bile.

I'm tired and poisoned.

Life cheated me on that hope of wonder, which my parents have put into me, while I was cluless. And now I deal with it.

I will get back at life for it. I will plan my revenge. I will throw my pitty self into it. And close my eyes. And never think about it again, and never look even at it.
And maybe then... it will come crawling to me, standing right next and surround me. And when it does, I'll say: "allright life, you might stay - but never fuck with me again."