“You love him too much”, my concerned mother was right this time.
I did love you too much.
“If he hurts you, I'll kill him”, I laughed, I didn’t want to imagine this.
With each beautiful touch, I believed him.
I believed he wouldn’t dare.
Why would he want to?
He treated me like a Queen.
Oh, but she was right.
I went from his everything, to nothing
in the midst of a fist that I had thrown while drowning in his lies.
How dare he.
How could he?
I hated him.
I hated him for disrespecting the one thing I asked for: Honesty.
I hated him for being almost perfect and something that I had never experienced. Something that I grew to believe I couldn’t live without.
I hated him for his differences that made me fall so deeply into his arms to the point where I didn’t know how to not be within his embrace.
I hated him for abandoning me when he promised he wouldn’t.
I loved you too much.
I loved you more than I loved myself.
And that was my first problem.
So yes, I loved you. I hated you.