I hate the bitch that gave birth to me. There. I said it.
Ya know, at one point in my life, I forgave her for everything she did to me growing up. I let it all go. I moved past it. She never even had to ask my forgiveness. She never admitted she did anything wrong.
But she lives in denial. She's a psychopath. And the people around her don't even realize it. I'm not even saying psychopath to be mean. She's mentally ill. She has people fooled and when they find out who she is, she'll uproot herself again and she'll move to where no one knows her and she'll play the game from the beginning.
She'll come up with excuses for disappearing out of people's lives. They're all lies.
People say hate is a strong word. Well, it's a strong feeling, like love.
I used to say that I rarely think about my Mom. I don't let it bother me. She didn't matter. It didn't matter if she was there or not. Because at the time, it didn't. And so, I couldn't hate her.
But then she waltzes back in, says she'll be there. Says she cares. And then tries to turn me on my own family that raised me.
The thing about the word hate...if you hate someone, it means that person controls you. If you can waste time hating someone, you have a strong feeling...which means you feel SOMETHING toward that person. And to that person, something is better than nothing.
I used to feel nothing. And now I hate her. I wish I could go back to feeling nothing. I hate that I waste time hating her. I hate that she has this control over me, when she never had control over me before. I miss being numb.