Between Love and Hatred
I don’t know if I should stay.
I don’t know if I should leave.
Maybe neither choice ends happily.
Maybe one breaks me and the other haunts me.
But what if one of them finally sets me free?
How am I supposed to stay after everything?
After every promise you made.
After every time you swore things would be different.
After every tear I cried believing that this time you meant it.
Because here we are again.
Right back where we started.
The same arguments.
The same pain.
The same version of you that only appears once you’ve convinced me to stay.
I hate how you can be so cruel to someone who loves you this much.
I hate that you can look at me while I’m breaking and still find a way to make me feel like I’m the problem.
You see me cry.
You hear my voice shake.
You watch me beg for the bare minimum.
And somehow that still isn’t enough to make you stop.
It’s like my pain doesn’t matter to you unless it’s inconvenient.
You make me feel small.
Small enough to question myself.
Small enough to wonder if I’m asking for too much when all I’ve ever wanted was kindness.
I don’t understand how you can go to sleep after hurting me.
How you can roll over, close your eyes and rest peacefully while I’m lying awake replaying every word you’ve said.
Every insult.
Every threat.
Every moment you made me feel like I was impossible to love.
Do you know what the worst part is?
It’s not the shouting.
It’s not the threats.
It’s not even the names you’ve called me.
It’s knowing that the person I run to for comfort is the same person causing the pain.
The person I love is the person I’m trying to heal from.
And that’s a kind of heartbreak I wouldn’t wish on anyone.
We’re almost three years in.
Three years of memories.
Three years of loving you.
Three years of choosing you over and over again.
Yet somehow it feels like you don’t know me at all.
You don’t know what keeps me awake at night.
You don’t know what makes me feel safe.
You don’t know how deeply your words stay with me long after you’ve forgotten them.
Or maybe you do know.
Maybe that’s what hurts the most.
Maybe you know exactly what you’re doing.
Tell me, when did you stop loving me?
Was it months ago?
A year ago?
Was it before you asked me to be your girlfriend again?
Because I still remember when you told me the truth.
That you took me back because blocking me felt harder.
That you were numb.
That being with me was easier than letting me go.
Do you have any idea what that did to me?
I spent so long believing I was chosen.
Only to find out I was convenient.
I spent so long believing I was loved.
Only to find out I was simply there.
And somehow I stayed.
Because I loved you.
Because every version of my future had you in it.
Because I kept falling in love with the person you promised you would become.
Not the person you actually were.
Sometimes I wish you’d left.
I wish you’d walked away properly the first time.
Maybe then I would’ve cried.
Maybe then I would’ve shattered.
But maybe by now I would’ve healed.
Instead, I’m standing in the middle of love and hatred.
Still loving you enough to stay.
Still hurting enough to leave.
And every day I feel myself drowning in both.