i hate you. i hate how you've left me, a pile of skin and bones. i hate how quickly you found a place to rest your heart, while mine still doesn't belong to me. i hate that you get to live, while i fight to survive. i hate that you've never had to beg for mercy. i hate you're the person i dream about, i hate that you've bereft me of any rest. i hate that i pray for you every night, i hate that you're the reason i've stopped believing in a god. i hate that my life means nothing to me now, i hate that i mean nothing to you. i hate how easily you live without me, almost as easily as i fell in love with you. that love which you so indifferently, and painlessly, ask me to replicate with another. that all-consuming love which put me on the highest pedestal, which made me feel as cherished as the last surviving porcelain doll. that love which finally made me love myself. that love which has become my entire purpose. that heavy, unstable love which i promised to you forever. i love you.
