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Discussion Starter #1
Do I hate you?
I know I should not, but there is something black and slimy deep in my heart. An infection, pulsing and growing ever so presently. Big and black, seeping into my bloodstream like raw sewage into a spring stream. I hate you, and truly, I don't see passion not to…. Except I know it's wrong.
When did I start hating you? The moment I knew your love like the shifting winds was untrue. Creature of logic, I am one of passion. You don't understand, form is just as important as function, if not more, because most are not like you. You look for facts, while I live in a world of feelings, with lines of emotion I define you. But you'd rather see me for the bareness of my have and have nots. You argue that is all there is to a person, and I hate you because deep down, I think what you say is true.
So the dark pulsing thing in my heart is logic, the truth steeped in self hatred, bitter and pathetic, it is the true me.
You've always known, and you've always fought me for it, so why stay at all? Patriarchal duty? I don't want your love then, leave me without it, leave my aura of happiness alone, don't prod it so. Let me be angry inside and smiling outside. This I'd rather have than become your progeny.
Sincerely,
Your weakest, meekest, angriest, and happiest child
 
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