The Only Person Who Ever Hated Me More Than Ive Ever Hated Myself, I Now Loathe More Than I Ever Thought

the only person who ever hated me more than i’ve ever hated myself, i now loathe more than i ever thought i could feel for a human being. every time i look in the mirror, i see his eyes. every time i speak, i hear his voice. every time i move, it’s rehearsed advancements, burned into me like brands, and every time i look down i find a new scar… every time i close my eyes, there are images of things he did to me, and i remember that the first man that i was ever supposed to love, hated me. every look, every action, and every word was filled with a painful bite that injected a painful venom into me that i fear i’ll never heal from. i never once understood how someone could hate their child so much until i met him. it was all disguised as love in the beginning, but as i grew older, i saw the flaws in the facade, and i grew wiser to the words that seemed laced with adoration. it was never adoration, it was almost always disgust or condescension. he made me believe that fairies exist, when in reality they were dark beasts lurking in the darkness of my naivety. once he decided that i’d hid in the comfort of my ignorance for long enough, he tore the light of hope that protected me and replaced it with the shadow of terror that still haunts me to this day. this man – the first i was supposed to ever love – tore every shred of innocence from my small, frail hands, and put in them a grim but beautiful world that i was, and still am too scared to behold.

- an ode to the man who never truly loved me

Clarice Lispector, from "Too Much of Life Complete Chronicles," publ. in 2022

someday 🐞

I confuse people. i have a happy personality and a sad soul. i'm bold but shy. i love deeply but sometimes i feel heartless. i'm healing and hurting at the same time. i'm dedicated to growth, but i self sabotage

ouch.

Made to love, but not to be loved; made to understand, but not to be understood; always the poet, never the poetry.