Dear person I hate
Did you know I used to be able to truthfully say I didnât hate anyone? I liked you. Longed to be liked by you. Tried to get your attention like so many other people we know. Thereâs something about you, and you know it. Something about you that draws people in and no matter what you do to them, keeps them attached and hoping and yearning and longing for your love. And I used to feel that. That need to be needed by you. But now I donât. Because you did one thing too much.
I know it was YouTubeâs choice to go to you. I know there was something you have that I donât, something you can give him, that I did something or lack something or simply am not good enough for him and you are. And thatâs not what this is about, really. This is about you. You and your sick need to twist things. Twist things and people and twist and twist and twist until they snap and splinter and break, and then you like to patch the remains back together to simply begin the process over again.
Youâre not patching me back up. I used to hero-worship you. Did you know that? You didnât. You knew I liked you. Admired you, to a point, because I was a naive idiot who knew everything and nothing all at the same time. But you didnât know to what point I admired you. You were my idol. At one point, you could do no wrong. Every harsh word, every sharp look, it was simply another reason to try harder, to get you to notice me for good reasons.
I was an idiot.
Not anymore.
The others donât seem to see it, what you do, who you are, why you do it, but I do. I do. So donât try to do it to me.
