I hate hearing how happy you are. Your granddaughter was born and I heard you cried from happiness…and I couldn’t hate that any more. I hate that you have any sliver of happiness. I want you to be miserable. I want your life to be as hard as you made mine.
My doctor tells me that I should find it in myself to forgive you. That if the thought of you upsets me then you’re still winning. But I can’t. I will never forgive you. If my family is going somewhere and we are dropping my brother off with you then I won’t go. I never want to see you again. I’m not afraid of you, just afraid of how I’m going to treat you.
My friend tells me that it’s pointless to hate. That it wastes too much energy. He tells me that he doesn’t hate. I’m jealous of him. I’m so swallowed by my hatred for you that your name makes me cringe.
I’ll always hate you.