I feel a hatred growing within me, all directed towards you. And I can’t stop it. I hate the things I used to love about you and about the way you are with me. I hate texting, because it’s disconnected and pointless. I hate texting you, because you have nothing to say.. I hate calling you, because I have nothing to say and you don’t try. I hate trying to make plans with you because you’re flighty, unpredictable, forgetful and disrespectful. I hate when everything is my decision. Even breaking up, because you can’t see how broken our relationship already is. One more year, you say, and we can move out. Because you don’t want to struggle. But really you don’t want to work. You don’t want to try. At anything. Our relationship, life, school, a job. Too much work. I hate that I blame this all on you. I know I’m guilty, too. I hate the person I’ve become, because I lack the friends I used to love and the hobbies that kept me sane. I hate the person I’ve become with you, because I lack the sexuality that only recently flourished and the happiness I once felt radiate through my body. I hate the person this relationship has shaped me into; someone who pushes others away and doesn’t remember how to make or have friendships. I hate this toxicity. I hate that I once loved it. I hate that my biggest fear at 20 years old is dying alone. I hate feeling that without you I will die alone, even though I know it’s not true.
I love you, I loved you. But now I hate you. And I hate you more everyday. I want to marry you, but is it out of perceived desperation? I’m too young. I’m too old. I want to go, I need to stay. I hate you. I hate myself for hating you.