truth ya can’t handle

The truth is hard to write, and it is hard to write anything but the truth.

I was thinking today there are some you grow to love to hate, but he is someone who I have grown to hate to love.

You may think hate is vicious and it can be, as I can be with him, but mostly it is debilitating, like the hate get directed inward, and it is my own muscle and sinew being macerated at with a blunt knife. For me it is this constant gnawing nausea and dread around him. It never really fully lifts. Even when I am not acting out of that place, it lurks in the shadows ready to hit again.