I Love to Hate You: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

What does it feel like to not hate everything? What type of
brain must someone have in order to look at life and not feel
drained every single day? Does that feeling require special
bones that give off warm sentiment in the face of darkness, or
is my form of darkness its own remarkable brand that defies
warmth? Maybe that’s why everything feels cold all the time.
The darkness I live in every day is a sea ready to swallow me
as I float on my back at its surface, staring up at the sky as
if my very existence isn’t in danger. Sometimes I can look
above me and ignore it. Other times the black waves become
too rocky and I can’t even see which way is up. It’s easy to
hate everything when you're drifting in the pitch-black.