I have spent months reading about your terribleness, your sickness and finding every reason to revel in my suffering and despise you.
But what I keep going back to is the image of you, late at night crying in my arms.
You grasping at your chest, filled with grief, eyes glossy and missing your father.
Watching you drink and cry at song lyrics. You played them over and over until they were set in me and the tears flow freely.
Your eyes were stars and I was always left gazing.
You are begging me not to leave you, not to give up on you…on us.
My heart breaks everyday for you and then slowly pieced back together with spite and anger.
I do it over and over.
I recall you leaving me in the middle of the night and going to jail.
Selling our belongings for a fix and trinkets always gone missing.
I remember the accusations of betrayal and infidelity and feeling so confused when you are on your knees telling me otherwise.
Oh, how I wanted to believe you.
I want to and I find myself in momentary but ever fluctuating dissonance.
You told me, you promised I would.
If you truly love someone, you will hate them just as much. You will hate me one day. You really should.