her.

xvi

i want to hate her.

i want to hate her so much.

she broke me
she was the reason i cried every night
she was the reason i couldn't eat anymore
she was the reason i closed myself off

but i can't hate her
because who's going to be there when she gets hurt?
me, wagging a finger and saying i told you so?
what kind of friend does that?

i had to pretend until it became real
that i didn't care they were together
that i was sleeping and eating well
that i didn't want to disappear.

it never became real.
i'm shattered like a mirror:
you can put it back together,
but the cracks are always there,
and there will always be tiny fragments missing.