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You know, years back, I wouldn't believe it was possible to love and hate someone at the same time.
I see now that I'm sorely mistaken.
It's so odd, loving a family member and hating them with every fiber of your being. I love my family on my dad's side. Most of them are wonderful people.
Then there are the ones that, to put it simply, aren't wonderful people.
I love them.
They're my family.
And yet, at the same time, I hate them with every fiber of my tiny frame. I just want to scream at them, to throw things at them, to make them understand just what they do to me. To us. To us... I want them to see how they hurt my dad. I want them to understand how much they tear us up. They hurt us. They're the only ones that know how to twist their words into a knife so effectively, and to cut us up so well. No, make that... gut us so well. When they're through, there's nothing but an empty shell left behind.
And yet, I still want to hold them close. It's so frustrating. I want to hug them, to laugh with them, and then, I also want to drive my fist into their gut.

I hate feeling this way. I hate it. It's tearing me apart, bit by bit...

This can't be healthy.