I do not hate you.
I did though. For a long time, I hated you. Some of that time was when we were together. I loathed you. When I discovered the depth of your betrayal, I deconstructed. My whole being, soul, body, mind, I dissolved into madness and darkness. There were times I wanted to rip your still beating heart out and eat it whole while you watched, times where I’d reach out to anyone who I thought would listen, times I screamed at you and begged you to make the pain stop.
Then there was nothing but silence. No one would talk to me, you were done with me. You’d left me abandoned, crying, broken. You told me what we had wasn’t real in the most sterile voice which came so easily to you. I sobbed, begged, screamed in disbelief. It was real for me!
Time passed and the only thing that ever filled it was an abyss of nothingness.
So why don’t I hate you? There are several answers, actually. None of which are what you might think. I do not still love you, I do not miss you, I do not want you. In all honesty, when all that was left were the ashes left behind from what we once were, something grew within me. You did not know, nor were you ever interested in knowing, that you breaking me was the most precious gift you could have ever given me. The gift of freedom from the prison of your love.
I pity you.
I pity you. Not in the way that you want. I pity the soulless creature whose only joy is to wreak havoc, and inflict pain and confusion. How tiresome it must be to balance different women and maintain different lies. How lonely it must to have nothing but your cold, empty heart to lie with at night, no matter whose body is laced around you.
You are incapable of experiencing real love, or joy, you are not capable of even loving yourself, otherwise you would have been able to love another. You cannot experience longing, or grief, because there was never anything you held dear. You will not be bettered by those who touch you, neither will enrich the lives of others. You only see yourself.
I admit, I find solace knowing that when you realize what I am about to say, you might be disappointed with yourself, you did not outsmart me. You did not best me or outwit me. I knew what you were, and what you were capable of, every step of the way. I was not blinded by love, it was not ignorance or naïvety; it was hope.
You relied on hope. My faith, my hopes for you, for us, is what made you hold so much power over me. This does not make you a man, unfortunately, this makes you a little boy running around with a loaded gun.
My light is that you will never get to experience life the way I do. You will forever be stuck in a sad existence, full of self-loathing, pettiness, and games. An insignificant existence. An obsolete existence. You will forever be a shallow, cold pool.
I am an ocean.