I hate you, and it bred love.

To my ex:

You were by far the worst person I have ever known. How I actually ended up with you, only God knows. A fixer upper, with emotional baggage, and a paralyzing inferiority complex that made life with you unbearable. You ripped apart those around you because you hated yourself so much, your ferocious tirades of hate and venom spewed forth with such force, at times I questioned whether I could ever recover from the searing statements. They still echo in my mind sometimes, a distant taunt from times I'd like to soon forget. A fiery Pisces with the temper of a criminal who knows the police are hot on his trail, you always had a look of entrapment and bewilderment in your eyes, highlighted with glints of rage. You targeted me when I was down and out, taking advantage of my vulnerable position, eighteen and ravaged by my father's recent death. Soon your hard hitting words turned to hard hitting fists, blows that I couldn't cover, black eyes I couldn't conceal. Carefully woven lies, letting you off the hook without a blink of my bloodshot eyes. Lie upon lie, injury after injury. Inescapable truths, perfect prints of your fingers lined my delicate arms, and the trails of finger nails dragged across my neck needed no explanation. Taken out of my hands, and into a judge's, you were found guilty. Assault and criminal mischief. Small charges marked the end of two years of hell, from which it would take longer to recover. I covered for you, when it came to being questioned by the prying police, I took the blame, your voice echoing in my head 'YOU made me do it!'. I hate YOU so much. I should have told the truth, but fear is a funny thing, when life's got you on your knees, you walk a fine line, saying anything to avoid your head slamming into the cold, hard, sobering pavement.

But now, here I am. Over three years later, happily in love. My hate for you has turned to love, because had it not been for you, I would not have had the struggle of my life, the task of dragging myself back up on to my feet, and dusting myself off. I would not have clawed my way back to the top without you. You knocked me down, and I picked myself up, proving my strength and self worth, while learning that struggle truly makes the soul stronger.

Not to mention, I wouldn't have met Joseph if it wasn't for you. Oh, the irony.

I still hate you,

Me

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