I hate someone I love and I hate myself for thinking that.

I think about the past and my heart aches. Their cold, distant embrace makes me feel nothing but frustration. I can’t let them go but I can’t bring myself to look past what they did. I can’t let go. I can’t help but love them.<br><br>The pain in my heart aches when I stop myself from calling. My voice trembles as I tell myself to stop. The missed calls from their phone bring tears to my eyes. I want to call them back, to answer my phone, to go see them. But I can’t. My doubts ruin me.<br><br>Their name grinds to a halt in my throat. I can’t even call out to them. <br><br>I was hurt deeply in the past. But my hatred of them keeps me safe. I am unresilient. I am weak. The past is the past and I’ve built a wall. But there’s a crack. If I call them the wall will crumble. My doubts carry weight with them. I’m nothing without them. <br><br>I hate them, but I hate myself more.<br><br>I wish I could do it. Maybe one day I’ll call the person who hurt me. They’ll look at me with pity and tell me to look for help. I’ll tell them that I can’t help myself. They might turn their back on me. They may refuse to call me. I might take the chance and let them hurt me again. <br><br>I’m weak. So weak. I hate myself and I hate them for it.