I hate today.


I hate April 7.

I hate that I can’t escape it.

I hate that this year it’s the day before Easter.

I hate feeling guilty. Why should I feel guilty?

I hate that it still hurts. That it ever had to hurt.

I hate that it still doesn’t make any sense to me at all.

I hate that I fully believed that everything was going to be okay, and I hate that I was so terribly wrong.

I hate that I never got to say goodbye.

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