I need to be hated. It is easier to bear. Being loved means disappointment. It means hurting others for the sake of hurting them. It means being left behind when they grow to old or two tired. It means having others give up on you when you rather they stay near.
I would rather be hated.
I would rather feel that dark pain then know what love feels like. I can’t take the purity of that feeling. I can’t stand living with the what if.
I rather be hated and know what will happen.
Instead of being loved and constantly guessing.