Stitched

The sensation of you hating me washes over me daily. It creeps up on me like a sneaker wave in the ocean. I think, "Today is the day I will be alright"... But then I'm not. I look in the parking lot at work and see us holding hands in your car. I walk past the door to your room and listen for the sound of you pacing or rehashing an old conversation you had. I drive by our favorite restaurants, our favorite hotels, our favorite places to go walking and I see us there. I fall in love all over and only remember the beauty of us. I think about us growing old together and facing our end holding each other. And then it comes. You hating me. A hate so intense it burns my skin and I cover my eyes as if it will make the image of you staring with contempt for me disappear. I beg forgiveness and pray you heal from all the things I didn't do right and all the things I did completely wrong. I fight with my head to only see the way you looked at me when you first married me. I try to flood my mind with all the beautiful parts. Every perfect memory is now sewn tightly to the memory of how much you hate me. And I want so badly to rip it free from me. To cut it at the seams and destroy the very idea of you not loving me. But they are both so bound that to forget you detest everything about me would cause me to forget you used to love me. And I just can't seem to let that go, because I still love you.

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