I Hate Him

I hate him, I don't, not really, not ever, but I wish I did. I hate him for loving me, I hate him for showing me what real love was, I hate him for making me feel like someone did love me, like I was worth something as a person. I hate him for making me like myself, I hate him for making me feel safe enough to trust him with my heart, to trust him with my past, and what I wanted my future to be. I hate him, but not really— I could never hate him. Even after everything he will always have a space in my heart, and by that I mean there will always be a hole in my chest in the shape of him— that will likely never be filled, or fixed. Because he was my soulmate, and other half, yet I wasn’t good enough. So I hate him, but not really...