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I often write in anger, I write when I am hurting. So many poems are focused around the word "you". I hate it. I hate how full of anger for you I am, Especially when I am also full of love. I love that you heard me say Spirited Away was one of my favorite movies, And so you bought it on DVD. I love that you bought me a skateboard - a brand and model I'd wanted for years - and you found it with a Keyboard picture on the bottom because I play piano. I love that you tell me I'm beautiful when I don't feel like it. I love that you've been trying. I love that for the first time ever, this past year I heard you genuinely take accountability. "I over reacted, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I don't have the right to do that." I love that you can fall asleep angry at me, but still in your sleep you'll find me and hold me. I love that you look at me with love. But the problem is, You still do the bad things. It's so difficult because I love you. I've told you so many times; "I love you unconditionally and always" When you felt like I must not love you after the things you've done. I don't understand it; I can just forgive you. It still hurts me to think about when you've fallen asleep, when I'm at work, when you storm out on me. But if you try to hug me I won't be able to be angry. I don't understand it. I should be angry at you. I AM angry at you. But I don't feel it when I look at you, when I speak to you. All I can feel for you is love. God damn it. The love I feel for you doesn't excuse it. That's the worst part. You hurt me when I am here with you and I still love you, And that love is why it'll still hurt so much to leave. My best friend told me, "I'm scared he'll beat you to death before we turn 30". And that made me angry. But not at her. It was at you, For making me love you, Then isolating me from my friends and family, So if I talk to anyone, the only thing they can do is worry. I don't know how I can love you like this. But I love you. You've called me names, you've hit me, you've thrown me down on the floor and down our stairs, you've threatened me, choked me, thrown things at me. I know I said I love you unconditionally. That was never untrue. But this love is probably going to kill me. If not before I turn 30, then afterwards. You're going to drink too much and it'll go too far, It'll happen in the winter when things are at their worst. I can't let it happen. And if you love me, Neither can you. I need you to let me go.
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