I HATE TO HATE YOU

I hate to hate my mental illness because hating something takes physical and mental energy and, of course, hating something means there is the existence of something horrible enough to be worthy of hating. I want to be free of the burden that it is to have hatred in one's heart.

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Desperately, I hope you cease to exist. I hope you seize up and shrivel into oblivion with tears on your face and an apology on your tongue. I hope you suffer the way you've made me suffer. You utterly destroyed what it was to be and now I don't even have the pieces to put me back together again because they've been eaten away at. The worst part is that you know that but don't care. No, the worst part is that you like to be hated because it means you're being seen and noticed. I wish that recognition didn't matter to you but it means everything, right? Because with it, you're convinced that I'm enough.

I hate to hate you because then it means you're real, that with every step you take, a footprint is left.

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Once, I loved you. Some sick part of me craved you. I craved the game, I craved feeling high, I craved feeling euphorically beautiful. One perfect evening, a thousand beautiful butterflies are migrating home with the sunset behind them, fluttering freely, delicately, and peacefully. And then comes you, the rain, the torrential, excruciating rain forcing them to the pavement, their glowing hearts dying with only the memory of a good day. That is how you kill every good thought... with bitterness and calculation. You erase every single good thought in my mind, obliterating them with all of the bad ones. And each time you do it, you break my heart all over. It feels like it sounds - You stab my stab wounds, sticking the knife in further until the tears can't stop running down my cheeks. I spend precious time hating the life you're laying out before me, this life that you isolate me from experiencing. And then there's the now - A precious thing that the lucky ones come to know. But instead of laughing with my friends, I'm counting my calories. Instead of running up hills with my dog, I'm thinking of how many steps I'm doing. Instead of shopping with my mum, I'm body-checking.

You're everywhere and the more you're everywhere, the more I, Luka, is found nowhere.

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I hate to hate you because being physically excluded from activities excludes me from the coinciding beautiful mental framework. Alone, I'm left reminiscing about everything I am frustratingly not a part of, watching from the sidelines like an old and frail woman. I long for the strength in my body to run, sing and dance. I long for the resilience to fall, be hit and jolted. I long for the mental capacity to physically eat with spontaneity, variety and freedom. With this, I could travel the world with my beautiful family in harmony and peace. With this, I could say 'yes' so much more happily and easily. I wish to feel youthful but instead of resting in eagerness for the world that awaits me, I feel confined to moments of time and set routines. I feel, sometimes, as though my life is spent as a sitting duck in a faraway pond. I feel, always, heartbroken that I don't know if it will ever go away. My rigidity has become so extreme, limiting me from so many activities that my loving friends and family mindlessly, willfully partake in such as going out to dinner. For now, my mind and body exist elsewhere.

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I hate to hate every part of you. I wish you would go away. I wish that you would leave every beautiful person be who's misunderstood by your ruthless and unimaginable ways.

Kisses,

COS x