I hate you. I hate that I have to accept it for what it is. Your mindfuck games of mediocrity. Your sense of self worth so low.
You ripped open a part of me that's been buried. I locked it away because it's safe that way, I didn't hurt, but I didn't create either.
I thank you for shaking my cores pieces out, for allowing the art to flow in all forms because you . You did that.
I'm thankful for the art spilling and sliding, staining and bleeding.
I know you incapable of even seeing what you have done, of feeling it. Maybe you don't feel, you might have once and you too locked it away to be safe from the pain. And I don't hold that key, maybe no one does because maybe your just a psychopath or narcissist. Or maybe your just you, no one special trying to find your way.
How can I hate and love you for what you have five. Maybe I wanted to stay buried and safe. I was content then or at least my mind tricked me that I was. Now I feel on the edge of a wave that's growing, I want to ride it, I yearn to ride it but I've never learned to surf. I have this board tied to my ankle and my hands resting on it bobbing in the water but I am afraid to climb it's slippery surface.
I hate you, I hate you so much for finding me. I hate you but I love u.
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