:smacks forehead: When did I become a six-year-old girl? I hate you? Did I really say that?
I’m not the type of person who just throws around hate nonchalantly. I’ve made it a point to not use the word at all in my daily vocabulary–I prefer strongly dislike. Hate is such a strong word, and it cuts deep. However, the other night, I said it. And who was the unlucky one to receive my hatred? My fiance. I have never told him that I hated him, until that moment. I believe I even through a fucking in there to make it that much more powerful. I don’t even know what brought the word on. I just know that I was angry, but whatever it was, he definitely did not deserve to have that word thrown in his face.
He didn’t even bring it up until the next day; I tried to pretend like it didn’t happen. As if maybe I had imagined it up. But it did happen. I said it, and it’s stuck in my head. I know it hurt him, though he didn’t really say so. I can see it, though, and I feel as if I cut a big hole out of my heart. I apologized the next day, saying that I didn’t really mean it. What I meant to say was, Sometimes I want to hate you. Ek. Right. I was only digging my hole deeper. He shrugged it off, though. Well, I think he did. He hasn’t brought it up, but I know it’s stuck in the back of his mind, too.
If anyone knows of any way that I can rewind time, let me know.
