Scared infant goat mouth.

I have yet another letter. To her.


Dear _________,


I have no other way of explaining my feeling towards you than the simple phrase "I hate you". I hate the way you chew your food like a goat and how you drive like a mentally disabled 97-year-old on crack. I hate how you think puzzle pieces fit together when you shove them until they are bent and twisted. I hate how when you do things, your left hand just hovers, almost entirely useless. I hate how everything you cook turns out as something that looks like it came form a dead animal's stomach and I hate how when you make candy at Christmas time, you screw it up and ruin the nostalgic moment of it all. I hate how you forget things and how you get mad at people for the things you do wrong. I hate everything about you. How you raised your son, and how you treat me and the way you walk. I hate how your eyes sometimes look like an infant's, lost and empty. I hate how you try to talk when you have an already too large amount of food in your mouth. I hate when you make jokes and smirk halfway through when they aren't funny, no matter how clever you think they may be. I hate how you are under the impression that my friends find you funny when they are just laughing out of pity, politeness, or nervousness. I hate you for everything you've done and even the things that happened to you that you couldn't help. I hate it. But really, what I hate most of all, is how my friends hate me for hating you. For them not understanding that I wished you would have just died. I hate you for them having sympathy for you and not me. I hate that no matter how badly you treat me, I will always be the selfish one and the one who is acting horrible or being mean. I hate that I want you dead. And I hate that I'm the only one in my family that has the guts to tell you to your face, yet again making me the bad guy. I hate that you didn't just die so I could love you when you did. Now, when you die, I'll hate you and I won't really care. And I hate you for that. And I hate you because I know it's not my fault for hating you, but everyone believes it is.

Emily.



Sometimes, I wish I wasn't so scared to pretend to be happy. And sometimes, I wish I wasn't so scared to be my horrible self. And I'm scared at what that means I am.