I HATE MYSELF FOR YOU

 

Ofcourse, I hate myself for you.

I hate you for us.

People say you could be mad at the action, but be in love with the person, I think that wasn’t thought through.

I cannot forgive myself for the bowl of ice-cream that I’ve refused to throw out because of how much it reminds me of you.

I cannot move past the confetti that I’ve hung in my room because it was you who brought them and touched them last.

And I hate that on some days, I think so much of you, about us, those things that were true.

Oh, how I hate you, how I hate me for you, how I hate all of what we had and even the days that were so good. 

I’ve been in denial that what we had was a good time of life. Yes, it was. But it would have been better if it didn’t exist.

Now I am left with the thoughts of everything. Wonders, possibilities, thoughts, bitterness and rage.

Even though I think you might be better than I am, I have no issues with that. 

I am glad that you are happy, super excited that maybe so, you might have moved on. 

Do I hate you for that as well? I don’t know, I can’t tell. 

I hate you for so many things, and I fault you for so many things and I hate myself for even more things, and I hate that I might never forget any of those things.

I hate myself for still wearing your wrist watch, for still going to that weekday service, for still passing by that inn, for still passing by that ice-cream shop. I hate myself for everything tied to you.

I hate myself when I see you, I hate my spirit when I hear you. I hate that you are even you, but I don’t think it’s you that I hate, I think it’s me.

I hate me for getting started, I hate me for fighting to hold off my emotions, I hate me for drowning in that feeling, I hate me for giving those tiny chances, I hate me for laughing so hard with you. 

I hate me for the forehead kisses I got from you. I hate me for the late night talk, the drive by and the meals we had.

I hate myself for being so sold and asking more time. I hate myself for putting myself together. I hate myself for those vigils and late nights. 

I hate myself for you. I hate myself for us. 

Whether or not I will forget or move past this, I cannot tell. 

But I know I am so vexed and upset, and my heart isn’t itself. 

And I hate that you act like life don’t end that day when you said those words you said.

Of course, I hate myself for you, for us, for the things we had and the promises we made. Those were all lies and I hate that I fell for them, I hate myself for you. 

And I hate that I act like I am okay, when I am barely here.

Oh no, it’s not okay, but that still okay. 

But I hate how stuck I am on this, on you, on words we said and on the things we did. I hate it for me. 

I hate me for it. I hate me for you. 

I hate you for me.