Dear Hopeful Loved One

Photo by Julia Caesar on Unsplash

Dear Hopeful Loved One,

I say you did this to me, and I say I hate you for it more than you will ever know. But I am about to tell you something I will never, ever actually say to you. To admit these things to you makes me seem weak. And that weakness is exactly what would destroy me, even if I only feel it by myself.

I need to say it for you to understand and finally accept what I am, and the choices I have made. I say I hate everything you stand for, and I hate that you will not accept me for who I really (but, not really) am.

But more than anything…

I hate that I don’t hate you. I hate that when I say I hate you, I mean I hate the way you bring me back to myself, the self I have tried to destroy, the self you know is still in there somewhere.

When I hate you for praying, I really hate the conviction I feel when I hear and see you on your knees bombarding heaven for me as I stand there holding the stone in my hand. I hate that I don’t want you to stop praying. Equally so, I hate that you will never, ever stop. It sets me on edge… seeing you stand in the gap between me and heaven because I know that where I am now, I will not stand there myself. My life is not your responsibility, but you carry me like a burden on your back and you lay me at the foot of the cross every day.

I hate the truth you carry because of lies I have to constantly create to cover the tracks I have laid. I hate this train ride to nowhere. Things will never be the same, and while I know it is my fault I will never speak it. Not because I fear you, but because I fear me. I fear the seams that will unravel, tearing me into a thousand pieces.

When I pull away at your embrace it is because I feel… and being around you makes me feel more. I hate that I shove you away cause I so desperately want you around. I hate that I want to pick up the phone and hear your voice say my name on the other end of the line. I hate that you want me, and I hate that I want you even more.

I hate that I have surrounded myself with people who hate you, when in reality it makes me angry they hate you… for I still love you. Despite the betrayal, you won’t give up on me, you still love me, you still want me… and I really, really hate me.

I hate the mask I put on to make you think this is what I really want. It is not what I really want. But I hope the pride I carry makes you think I am ok. I hate the control I use, so I blame it on you and call you controlling.

I hate being afraid. I hate the paranoia that I will be caught in my actions. I hate wanting so badly to lay with my head in your lap.

Now you know… I want you to hate me. And I hate that you never will.

Love,
Your Prodigal

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