Day #12 The Person I Hate the Most

I hate you. There, I said it. I think I have used every other phrase that I could think of in order to describe my feelings towards you. But lets be honest. I simply hate you. I hate the way you look. I hate the way you smell. I hate the way you walk. I hate the music you listen to. I hate the food you eat. I hate the clothes you wear. I hate the way you talk. I hate the sound of your voice. I hate the things you say. I especially hate the things that you say. I hate the way you gesture with your hands to say that my words are unimportant. I hate the way that everything has to be done on your time and no one else's. I hate that I am always wrong and you are always right. I hate that condescending way you look at me. And I hate the way you make me want to crawl inside a dark hole and die. I hate that you made me feel like shit. I hate that everyone around me said you didn't know you did it. I hate that the friends I saw regularly at the time liked you. I hate that they defended you, over and over again. I hate that they encouraged me to keep my mouth shut. Yes, it was for my own good but I regret the many opportunities I had to say, "Go to hell you god damn fucking slut."

Most of all though, I hate that I thought, at first, that I was just jealous of your relationship with my boyfriend. I thought I just didn't like the way you were all chatty and funny and giggly with him but not with me. I thought I just hated the way you liked to pretend I wasn't in the room. Or the way you were silent when I was there. I thought I just hated that you got to spend time with him, going to see comedians and movies while I was at work. I thought I hated that I couldn't do those things too because I was always in class or at work.

I hated that you flirted with my boyfriend right in front of me and he passed it off as friendship. Truth is, you only put up with me because Garret wanted me around. If you could have gotten rid of me, you would have in a heart beat. And many times you did. I hated that I kept trying to be your friend, thinking that it was me with the problem and not you. Guess what, bitch, I win.

He is still mine.

Keep your dirty hands off of him.

Dani