There is a certain person in this world whom I more absolutely despise than any other. The fact that this person can not only exist, but thrive and prosper, causes me to nearly lose all faith in humanity. That a person could be so selfish, so thoughtless, so absolutely positively stuck on their own ideas of what is right and wrong is more disturbing than anything I read in the daily paper.
I feel this pure hatred, the anger for this person . . . words like hate and rage do not even apply for what I feel for him, they are too simple. The words I feel for this person simply do not exist in any language that has been formulated.
Then I ask myself how one person can cause me this much strife. One person of seven billion can cause my pulse to race, my nostrils to flare, my skin to redden with the emotion built up inside. One person can do this to me.
Does that make me any better? Does that make me weak? Does that mean he wins? No this is not a game, but I feel as though I need to be ahead anyway. For myself. I need to prove that I am better than this. That no matter how much he tells me and shows me how awful I am, how terrible, how much this world would be better without me . . . I need to prove him otherwise.
I am running out of energy to fight him, and no one understands. I want to give in, to throw my hands in the air and say, fine, you win. But every time I fall the people who believe in me are there to pick me up, to dust me off and re-arm me with words of encouragement.
The pen is mightier than the sword, I know this to be fact. Yet with all the power of the pen I have gained over the years I still feel like I can't win. Perhaps that is why the battle hurts me so much, that his words are my down fall when they are supposed to be my greatest weapon. What else do I have?
I never asked for this daily bout of torture, yet here I am.
And yet in this fight I have discovered how strong I am to have continued so long. I never thought I would make it this far. The old me would have never spit so many venomous words back in his face.
I wish I could just walk away, but the love I have for another binds me to him and his daily dose of poison.
Love and hate live a block apart . . .
