For the longest time, I hated you.
I hate how you reflect your insecurities on me, how you manipulate every word, and paint me the villain in my own story. I hate how you blame me for things that were out of my control and take the credit for "correcting" those mistakes. I hate you for giving me a false sense of freedom when all I ever wanted was to be free of your toxicity. I hate you for simply existing—breathing, walking, living. I hate you for making me feel guilty for hating you when I have every valid reason to carry this raw emotion in my bones until the day I turn to ash.
For the longest time, I hated you.
In fact, I think I still do.
YOU ARE READING
Dedicated to Chaos
PoetryA book of messy words, thoughts, and everything in between.
