I Hate You So Much

I hate you.

I hate you so much that it hurts.

I hate you so much it aches beneath my skin.

I hate the marks you left on me.

Physically.

Emotionally.

Sexually.

I hate how you carved yourself into places that were never meant to carry your name.

How you made my body remember you.

How you made my mind orbit you.

You etched yourself into my skin.

Into my soul.

Into the quiet spaces I used to belong to be alone.

And I let you.

I let you have me.

Have control.

Have the version of me that was soft and willing and desperate to be chosen by you.

I boosted your ego.

I boosted your confidence.

You held the leash.

And I told myself it was love.

I believed it was.

I wanted it to be.

Then you left.

You left me in the rain, and I could not tell if the water on my face was the sky or my own grief.

I hate that my heart still reached for you.

Like a lost puppy that does not know it is lost.

Then you came back.

You came back when I was almost learning how to breathe without you.

You came back when I thought I no longer needed a leash.

But this time around,

you did not come alone.

You brought someone who felt like a second version of you, but with certain differences.

Same energy. Same pull. Same unspoken power.

Almost a mirror.

But not you.They grounded you in ways I never could.

I saw how they changed you.

I was drawn almost immediately, but I was scared.

Scared that I had unknowingly barged in as a threat, something that disrupted what they were building with you.

You both shared a history I was never part of.

I saw it in the way you looked at each other.

In the ease.

In the chemistry.

And still, I stayed.

I stayed when I knew I was stepping into something already built.

I stayed when I felt like an interruption.

I stayed when I knew I could not have what you both shared.

I let you both close.

Close enough to read me.

Close enough to hold me.

Close enough to ruin me.

You listened to my rants.

You held me at night.

You said you would stay.

I believed you.

I believed I had a place in both your hearts.

I believed I would not have to fight to remain there.

What a fool I was.

What a fool I am, once again.

I handed over the leash.

Once again, I let myself be pulled.

Pulled by desire.

Pulled by attention.

Pulled by the need to be wanted by both of you.

Pulled by the need to be loved by you both.

And I did not even resist.

I craved it.

I hate you both for how easily you read me.

For how easily you entered me.

For how easily you left.

I hate that no one compares.

I hate that your touch lingers.

I hate that your absence lingers even more.

But what I hate most is this:

Underneath all this anger, underneath the hate, is still the fool who still wants you both.

Still craves you both.

Still wants to understand you from the outside in.

Still loves you in ways that humiliate me.

And I hate it.

I hate myself for still having an ounce of love for you both.

You discarded me without hesitation.

I was an option.

A moment.

A second thought.

And yet I am still here.

Still holding the leash.

Still hoping you pull it again.

I hate you.

I hate you both.

But I hate myself for loving you more.