I love you with the innocence of a child but I hate you with the maturity of an adult
I love you when you tease me and make me laugh. But I hate it when you laugh at the masculine men or feminine women you see on TV. I hate how you snort when you hear that someone is trans or nonbinary or gay or bi or ace.
I love watching movies and shows with you. But I hate when you ignore the racial and homophobic issues they depict because I know what you think of them. I hate how you can talk over the tv and laugh with someone or talk about nonsensical topics when the tv shows something serious, even if it could be your coping mechanism. I hate how that makes me feel like you don’t care. I hate how you never show me how to care.
I love lightly gossiping with you. But I hate how you can talk about the people you call friends. I hate how I see that trait in myself.
I love how you don’t make me talk when I don’t want to. But I hate that time I asked for help for my mental health and you decided not to talk about that. I hate how after the years, sometimes I forget it happened and I hate that that’s most likely what you were hoping for.
I love how you see the mental health struggles of a child I love and we can talk about our worries. But I hate most of your views on mental health. I love how you’ve grown in them, but part of me still hates that the progress has been slow. I hate how, even though you see mental health issues in others and think they should get professional help, you don’t see them in me. I hate how you think that going to a psychologist is still shameful and I hate that I’m ashamed to say I want to go.
I love how you tried to give me a safe and happy life. But I hate that your fears and paranoia made me too scared and careful. I hate the anxiety of trying anything new.
I love my whole family. But I hate that I can see some of your hateful opinions in my baby brother. I hate that I see them in an alternate version of myself where I didn’t discover the right parts of the internet in the right time.
I hate how I’m not crying right now, even though I’m hurting. I hate how I’m used to this, how I know what to expect as soon as I see you looking at a gay couple, a trans person, anything to do with pride, a person from another part of the world, a POC, a cishet person who doesn’t show their gender in every aspect you see. I hate how I know I can’t ever speak to you on any of these topics because my heart breaks every time you open your mouth to say something about them. I hate the guilt of loving you despite your views, I hate the people on the internet that would tell me to try to change your views or go no contact. I hate how I have to suppress my hate. I hate how much it all hurts.
I hate how I can’t share with you this part of who I am, because I know your views. I’ve heard them, multiple times and loudly.
I hate how I can’t wait to go away to feel free. I hate how I need the internet to express myself as who I am. I hate how I haven’t even shared some things with my sister who shares more my views than yours because I know that she is prone to accidentally spill things she knows, whether it’s a secret or not. I hate how I’m scared. I hate how I know I don’t have to be scared of you being abusive or kicking me out or cutting ties with me if you ever found out. What I hate is how much it would hurt if you knew and tried to ignore that, if you didn’t say anything but I knew your thoughts, if you said you don’t believe me or that I’m just trying to be different or that I’m just saying I’m ace because you don’t think I’d find someone interested in me.
