Self-hate is rarely unconditional.

“Looking back now, there's something that bothers me abut the newspaper article …”

“I've come to see our central nervous system as a kind of vintage switchboard, a…”

“Love wasn't a thing you fell in, but rose to. It was what stopped you from fall…”

“Things don't go away. They become you. There is no end, as T.S. Eliot somewhere…”