Hatred.

I love tea. I've just made a nice cup of it, "Prince of Wales Grey Tea".
I've heated milk, and then dropped it in the cup. And then I've seen his ashtray. I hate being right, I really do. A lot of people (I should say everyone) thinks I love being right and showing off, but it isn't true, I feel annoyed because it's like I've stepped on someone who was wrong, I feel pretty uncomfortable.
But today I've known I hate it. It is no more not liking it. I loathe being right. Now I know it.

Current music: my heartbeats. I swear I can feel them on my temples.