The Boy I Hate ✍

L is silent

'Please give me attention' he pleads.

'Really?' I think. 'Is that the first message you send me?' I sigh disappointed but I respond back. Finally the silent boy noticed me. He isn't pretty, but he is alone like me. I see mystery and I see g̶o̶o̶d̶  in him. 

I don't actually remember when we hook up, so to say. But I do remember that even before that we had already had plenty of fights. It's so hard to look back and not feel bitter. I look back with angry eyes and an empty heart. I look back with disappointment and I feel something stirring inside- hate, desire for vengeance and for a payback.

I remember. You are now like an open wound that will never heal.

I remember thinking this thousands of times. I remember saying this to myself late at night when I was wasted and staring at the ceiling: 'I'm a freak, L, but I love you. I'm a fool. I hate myself...'

I remember trying to understand what feelings I had towards you. I remember trying to explain my thoughts to you but being too afraid that you won't understand. I remember myself as I pour my heart out, telling my secrets. I remember how I made myself vulnerable for you . I remember trusting you. I remember you being angry and rude and I remember looking at what you were writing and feeling ashamed, judged, mocked.

I was being mocked. I told you to stop but what you did was hurt me even more even when I was already down, bleeding rotten thoughts from my brain. And I watched. I forgave you. I said sorry even though it wasn't my fault. I saw that you were too afraid to be alone, too afraid that I will break up with you. So I swallowed my pain to make you feel welcomed, loved. I saw how frightened you were by the thought of me leaving you. All of the good feelings I have ever had for you dissipated slowly, over time, leaving behind a black, burning wound.

I have never ever felt so much hatred for a human being. When I look back at the moments we spent together I feel resentful. Shame and regret washes over me and I want to go back in time and slap myself for ever talking to you. 

//This is the story of The Boy I Hate//