Like most things, practice is required.
You aren’t perfect. Neither are they. And whether or not they are willing to admit that, you are not them. So let your imperfection flag fly.
Hate is love inching its way out of your heart. It lingers to cause you a pain that only time will be capable of healing. So feel it. Every excruciating second of it, until all the love is gone.
You’re on his bed. You don’t know why. Your hands are pinned down. You don’t know why. Your legs are spread. You don’t know why. He’s on top of you, and you know exactly why.
Thank you for arguing with me. You taught me the correct way to disagree, as well as the incorrect way.