It was nine o'clock in the morning when I had finally realized it.
As I held my coffee cup in my hands, and took a sip, staring out the window and the backyard I came to a final realization.
After almost four years, multiple gallons of cover up, bandaids and emotional crutches I could see clearly for the first time, the reason why I thought I loved you.
Beauty, power, the ability to do whatever you wanted at any given time and having complete freedom.
For almost four years whenever I passed a mirror I'd turn my eyes away or look down.
I felt the remains of bruises, of words written in permanant ink across my forehead, lips and cheeks.
"Whore, idiot, trash."
I could still hear the last words you had ever said to me ringing in my ears.
"The only one who will ever find you beautiful now is me you stupid whore!"
I hated hearing those words, I hated standing in front of you, crying.
I hated myself for letting you hurt me, for the marks you left on my skin and my metaphorical heart.
After I left you, standing there I had decided that I hated you for what you had made me; A cynicle, untrusting shell.
I wanted to scream those words at you...I wanted to tell you exactly how I felt at that moment.
I wanted to say, "I HATE YOU!" But at that moment in time those words did not seem strong enough to express my feelings towards you.
But this morning I realize that you were a product of what others had made you, just like I had become. A small part of me is okay with that fact, however on the whole I'll have to get used to the fact that I hate that I don't hate you.
I don't love you, nor do I like you. In fact if you were still around today I don't think I would be able to stand being around you. But I understand you, I forgive you and I accept who you were.
And maybe someday, perhaps in another four years I will come to the realization that I no longer think about you, except for every once in a while on a cool autumn morning and when there is nothing else to think about.
EsmeraldaGilberte Community Member 
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