#hannibal coded

It's so embarrassing to crave affection and understanding. Being human is humiliating in a way that surpasses any proper, sensible explanation. To breathe the same air as a lover is devotion enough, but I haven't a lover, nor do I desire to be fully and truly understood. Moreso out of a primal fear rather than childish shame brought on by the insistence of purity. Self sabotage and loathing surpasses any sort of learned disgust. But that might just be me. I often feel the weight of individuality sinking into my chest like an anchor. I was always taught that one in a million is a gift. A blessing. But it's starting to feel more like a punishment. An early damnnation. Hell on earth, if you will. Maybe that's just what it means to be alive. I wouldn't know.

Things that would kill Hannibal.