I Want To Hate You, But I Can’t

A man in a cap and a backpack looking at a busy street in New York.
Jake Ingle / Unsplash

I never had the slightest idea of how much the one person whom I entrusted my love and heart could become my worst nightmare overnight until the day it all burnt down.

You were never happy, not for once, you said. Please forgive me though for the little things I did that brought you joy. Sorry for being your number one fan when you chose to follow on with your dreams and ditch the job you had gotten even without trying so hard due to your qualifications.

It’s painful realizing that what we had was fake. It’s shameful to say the least that not a single smile, not a word you said was ever true judging by what you told me last.

It hurts more than you could ever know.

It was confusing when you said that you were seeing another at the time you and I were a thing. You said that you loved him so much and when I asked about us, an answer I was never given. You told me that in the arms of another you felt like you went back in time, you felt younger. You drove me to my limit. But how was I supposed to sit and hear about you and another while we were?

I’m not sorry that the best of me was never enough for you. It’s not my fault.

It disgusted me knowing that you hated my touch, my kisses. It felt as if I violated you in some way. It was never apparent to me that you were never in love; I guess I fell in love with the person I was when we were. I just wish you wouldn’t have pretended with me. It would have been better at the start. Now, I have a million questions and a betrayed heart, robbed of its time and love, full of pain instead of the warm feeling of love. Rather you chose to play a game; the kind that makes people hurt so bad and leaves tears in its wake instead of thrills and thirst for more.

I guess I’m just supposed to teach the heart how to fall out of love with you. But how do I begin?

I want to hate you so badly, but I can’t. Hate is such an extravagant feeling to have. It’s a leisure my heart can’t simply afford. TC mark

One story, told five ways…

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