I hate the fact that every boyfriend I ever have, I’m going to have to sit them down one day and tell them my deep, dark secret.
I hate the fact that I worry they’ll stop being attracted to me or that they’ll pity me.
I hate the fact that I feel contaminated.
I hate the fact that you contaminated me.
I hate the fact that you riddled me with paralyzing insecurity.
I hate the fact that you were the first person I ever worried about thinking I was ugly.
I hate the fact that every boy turns into you when my eyes are closed.
I hate the fact that I will never be normal, and never have a normal relationship.
I hate the fact that in every boy’s mind I will be remembered as the girl with all the emotional problems.
I hate the fact that I still hate you with such a clear, fresh, seething anger and you probably rarely think of me and when you do you laugh.
I hate the fact that I can never truly, purely enjoy myself.
I hate being frigid.
I hate being a target.
I hate that I have no good memories.
I hate that I create good memories.
I hate the fact that you created me, you defined my behavior.
I hate the fact that this lasts forever.
I hate the fact that your disgusting filth seeped its way into all the nooks and crannies of my being in more ways than I will ever be able to recognize.
I hate the fact that only practice will fix me but you make me afraid to practice.
I hate the fact that I get this rage when I think of what my life could have been like without this rage.
I hate the fact that you controlled me.
I hate the fact that you made me believe I had a choice.
I hate the fact that you still control me.
I hate what you did to me.
I hate you.
I hate.