I hate the circumstances. I hate the situation, the timing, the unfortunate chemistry of two people meeting at different stages of their life. I hate him, for what he’s done to you, for what he’s made you turn away from and embrace instead, for hardening you and turning you into what you are today. I hate them all for what they put you through.

And God, I hate you. I hate your hypocrisy, as you justify yourself with explanations that broke you down before. I hate your naivety, as you fail to see what’s collapsing in front and around you. As you fail to see me collapsing in front of you. I hate that you embrace the culture of “independence” not to be strong, but because you enjoy the idea of dangling the possibility of getting fucked over every man you meet. I hate everything I love about you, with every stunning detail and aspect of your skin and soul a double-edged sword. Perhaps most selfishly, I hate you because you can’t give me something back. Because you can’t give me what I want. Because you can’t reciprocate. 

Most of all, I hate myself. Where do I even begin? Optimistic when I should have been realistic, weak when I should have been strong, willing when I should have been hesitant, eager when I should have been wary… I hate myself for believing that you could have been different. I hate myself for believing I could have been different. I hate myself for not being good enough for you when I was at my best. I hate myself because I couldn’t be the catalyst I hoped to be, the one that made you change your mind about everything you knew. The way you did to me. I hate myself for all these reasons, and when I turn inward and gaze at my reflection, my eyes penetrating skin and dissecting blood, bone, and brain, I see nothing worth liking. I see nothing I like about myself.

“Mistaken as I have been in my public and private hopes, calculating others from myself, and calculating wrong; always disappointed where I placed most reliance; the dupe of friendship, and the fool of love, - have I not reason to hate and to despise myself? Indeed I do; and chiefly for not having hated and despised the world enough.” - Hazlitt