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I hate you.
I wanted to say that so badly. Knowing the words were incorrect stopped me from saying them.
I hate that I have to spend the rest of my life drumming out that recorded query, that "Are you sure?" you'd always ask. What? I don't know what I know? That my decisions are to be second guessed? That I'm uncertain of what I just uttered?
I hate that each living day, I have to quash that part of my psyche that undermines each and every decision I make. You had no idea how much work and anger and despair went into creating a mind that can handle the shit I've had to wade through. You had no idea, you had no intention to destroy it but here I am. I stand with a part of my mind always doubting until I can repair that hurt.
I hate that I have to rebuild what your words of doubt and the months and weeks of ignoring me destroyed. You didn't know just how many nights and hours and years I've spent telling myself that by myself, I am allowed to be. That I have the right to be me. You didn't know and you'd always ask if I was sure. Did I not say the words to answer your question? Or was I always so little that I caused you to doubt?
I hate that each and every thing I do is now met by doubt and uncertainty and more self-loathing just because you've repeatedly asked if I was sure, on top of poking holes at what I said. That you confidently went about your way and just laughed off your mistakes while highlighting what I did wrong grates up to now. It was always about how you hurt, about how you felt, about what you thought. That when you'd bend and give, it's to be remembered and treasured. No amount of gratitude I gave was enough. My forgetfulness was a sin. That you remembered differently, that you remembered, was the baseline of truth.
I hate that despite all the destruction you've done, you can always say that you had no intention to harm. And while that absolves you, it doesn't change the fact that I have to rebuild my mind. The predator did not intend to harm its prey, only that it meant to eat. It's the prey's fault for being too weak. No, that analogy demonizes you.
The havoc you've wreaked is no different from a storm. The storm simply is and did not intend harm upon those it passed by. But it doesn't change the fact that the casualties are no less dead just because they were in the storm's path.
I hate this hate.
I hate that by my standards, you're not to be blamed, ever.
I hate that I was too weak to withstand your words.
I hate, because to do otherwise is to succumb to despair.
