I don’t hate themas such.
more so I hate how they make me feel.
I hate the way their casual dismissal curdles like acid in my stomach
and their patronising smiles spur indignation to rise like a fire in my heart
I hate the way they talk over me
as though they have forgotten I am there
I hate how they can still laugh like we used to
even while I have been shunted to the side
I hate how one minute they accept me fully
and the next it is as though they never did
I hate this feeling of absence
of standing on the fringes with a pathetic desperation to be allowed in
I hate that they make me feel like I’m worthless
I hate the way they don’t seem to care that they do
I hate that I loved them once
I hate that I still do
I hate that tears still burn in my eyes when I feel the sting of their callous ignorance
and I have to hold them there
forced down by the will of my pride
Oh how I wish I could hate them
with the same visceral rage and indignation
that has curled its tail around my heart for their actions
but I can’t hate them
I suppose that’s why it hurts like this.