I hate you.
I hate you.
I despise you.
I detest you.
I hope you die.
No I don’t.
I hope you live, but suffer.
I loved you.
I cared for you.
I wanted something with you.
But you betrayed me.
You told my secrets.
You said you didn’t love me
While telling me you did.
I want to know the truth.
I never will.
I have to accept that.
Radical acceptance.
Fuck radical acceptance.
Fuck all this bullshit.
This hurts so much.
Last night I was writhing in my bed
With the pain caused by your actions.
Writhing.
Clawing at my chest.
Clawing at my bare legs.
Slapping myself in the face and head.
Punching myself in the arm.
Weeping.
Wailing.
Screaming into my pillow.
You caused this pain,
You self-centered, arrogant, selfish,
Fucking piece of shit.
I know I keep using this word,
BETRAYAL,
But that’s what it is.
It’s one of the deepest betrayals I’ve known,
Aside from Samy,
And that’s saying something.
Today I am a vessel
For this acidic rage burning in my belly
Making everything a hazy red
As I punch the wall despite my hand
Already being bloodied from the past few days.
You.
You.
YOU.
Y O U.
I fucking hate your fucking GUTS.
I wish you the suffering
Of a thousand Spanish Inquisitions.
And still it won’t be enough.
I wish you burning, blistering, festering sores
All over your body.
I wish you sadness, loneliness, to die alone,
With nobody to care anymore.
I wish you hunger, burning flesh, terror,
All bad things in your life.
I wish you nothing good
Ever again.
I hate you.
I know hate is not the opposite of love.
I know this.
I despise every memory I have of you.
I hate that I can still feel your hands on me
If I just close my eyes.
I hate that the taste of your lips
Lingers in my brain.
I hate that I can still touch you in my mind,
Your body slick with sweat,
Your eyes intense,
Almost looking through me.
Of course you probably don’t see me.
You just see the piece of flesh you get to cut on,
The piece of flesh you get to fuck,
The piece of flesh you get to slap
And grab
And bruise
And destroy.
Destroy from within.
I let you destroy me.
I let you in.
I let you in on my deepest, darkest secrets,
And you shared them with others.
You broke my confidence.
You betrayed my trust.
Oh, how I loved you.
No, not love.
I was infatuated with you.
I was lost in you.
Maybe I should be blaming myself,
Hating myself,
Loathing myself.
But it was not my actions
That caused this anguish.
All I did was trust the wrong person.
Is there shame in that?
Is that something to feel guilty about?
If not,
Then why do I feel so ashamed and guilty?
I didn’t know I was the other woman.
Hell, I was the other woman
To many women.
It makes me sick.
You make me sick.
Sick.
Twisted up inside.
All in knots.
Make it stop.
You used to comfort me.
You used to be my safe place.
Now you’re the cause of my suffering.
And I don’t know what to do with that.
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