I hate him

When he told me that he would be the one leaving instead, I felt the words hit me everywhere.
I stopped breathing.
I stopped thinking.
I stared at myself in the mirror in disbelief as tears of pain and resentment flooded my eyes.
I ran through every detail he’d told me of this woman, trying to figure out what it was that made him obligated to leave the state.
What made him obligated to leave me when I needed him to be my father the most.
What had I done or failed to do to keep him here?
Why did I even want him here?

Everyday after that, there was this empty pit in my stomach.
Every time my heart would beat, it would stir up this wave of pain and send it coursing through my body.
My limbs felt heavier and my head felt like it was underwater
Every time that frenzy of pain surged through me, my eyes began to sting and my head started chanting at me and I felt my heart physically hurt.
I was so confused why it hurt so much because this was the man who made me cry more than anyone in my life ever has.
This was the man who hurt me to the point where my heart was scarred and missing a piece of itself.
And yet everyday in the back of my mind, the words “he’s leaving you” were chanted.
No matter how hard I tried to shut them out, they would get louder and louder and when I stopped talking or laughing or running or working they returned
When I stopped moving for just a second to breathe, they caught up to me.
So I trained myself to move constantly.
I talked and I worked and when I didn't have anything to do, I read or I wrote or I played music or I cleaned.
Anything to distract myself from it all.
I trained myself to ignore the surges of pain.
I trained myself to ignore the heaviness of my body or to ignore sleep until it was forcing my eyelids shut because if I stopped for a second to fall asleep, it’d be back
He stopped calling and I stopped crying and suddenly the words faded but the pain remained.
But when I heard him talking to my mom.
when I heard what he said.
It wasn't pain anymore.
It was white hot anger.
I realized that I didn't just feel hurt by what he was doing but I felt betrayed and angry and hateful.
I realized that I hate him.
I hate him for what he said about my brothers.
I hate him for what he said about my mother.
I hate him for what he said about my stepdad.
I hate him for what he said about me.
I hate him for calling me snobby and spoiled and an attention seeker and worthless.
I hate him for making me feel like a failure and for telling me my dreams were hopeless.
I hate him for driving drunk with me because he can’t bear to sit in front of me without alcohol.
I hate him for the things he said about my body and my face.
I hate him for calling me beautiful.
I hate him for calling me his sweetpea.
I hate him for making me resent my body.
I hate him for making me loathe the skin I bear everyday.
I hate him for telling me I was considered child pornography and making me uncomfortable to wear anything but sweats and a hoodie around him.
I hate him for making me unable to trust.
I hate him for making me pick out every insecurity in myself.
I hate him for making me only able to see the worst and darkest parts about me.
I hate him for making me believe those were all I was.
I hate him for making me hate myself.
because that’s what he did.
He told me everything that I believed was the worst part of myself was true.
He told me I wouldn’t make it
He made me believe it too.
Every day, every breath, every second that passes me is laced with his words and the self doubt they caused me.
They were laced with resentment and hatred and fear and the nauseating stench of wine.
I hate him for a lot of things.
I hate him for making me hurt.
I hate him for making me cry.
I hate him for making me look in the mirror and seeing someone who wasn’t worth fighting for or loving.
But worst of all
I hate him for lying to me when he said he’d love me unconditionally.