hate hate stories

queeniebeanie ♤charlie jane lancaster♤
Autoplay OFF   •   9 months ago
I have never hated anyone before. Except for one person.



The open arms to which you promised safety was falsely given from your own desperation for someone to have.

You convinced me that the hostile environment and company you supplied me with was what I deserved, needed, the inevitable to how I would always be treated.

Your vile lies you fed into my head haunt me to today, causing more anger and creating more animosity towards you.

I will never be the girl you wanted and I will never be enough for you, and knowing this makes me feel at ease now with the knowledge of it not being my fault.

I was not yours to keep, I was not yours to force to be what you wanted.

Your words dripped with acid, every insult, judgement or spiteful response left scars that you will not take responsibility for.

Your half hearted apologies make me more disgusted in the thought of you, the plan of using it to have me again stays incapable of working against my grudge.

Your neglectful and unsupportive demeanor made my chest feel as though it had been filled with lead, the dread weighing down on me knowing I was not a person to be wanted.

Having you take my love with nothing in return left me with stomach drops and sleepless nights.

Your effects on me are ones you cannot fathom; your empathy not present in taking blame for how poorly you treated me.

I wish luck upon those who try to be with you in the future, I will move on without me thinking back on you.

I regret giving you any time out of my day to let my thoughts run wild and deep over your cold toxicity.

Anger pools in my soul thinking about how you treated me, thinking that you may do that to someone again.

Unfairly playing the victim card when I get the courage to leave, manipulating my anxiety into threatening to harm yourself if I wasn't yours.

Your times of purposely reading my messages yet not replying to avoid knowing why I am crying.

Not caring enough about me being a human to worry about my mental health.

Slowly aiding my depression, both contaminated hands of yours and mental illness pushing me to the edge.

No second thoughts pass your mind as you throw another comment at me to make me feel below you. Wanting to feel superior to me and to anyone, putting others down just to feel you are right.

Yet you are the one who is at the bottom when you stoop so low as to harm others for your own self-gratification.

Pulling me back in with your two faced sweet words; only to kick me back down again with a contradictory insult.

Using kind words if it somehow supports or benefits you in some way, using others to make yourself feel needed and important from your manipulation.

Carve my heart like a cake set out to celebrate your manipulation; I want you to understand that the home you called yourself will one day burn.





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