A/N: I need a beta, I think...
Please don't be too hard on me. My English isn't that... *amazing*.

Enjoy.

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There are days I don't dare to speak his name. Not because they are forbidden but because my body crawls in disgust. Hatred is not spread all over my body, it is collected in one center : my heart. Though there are no curses of death hidden beneath dark façades, I don't wish him a life. He may live a life without joy, sorrow or pain. Let him live a monotonous life, gray and infinity. Let him suffer, like I did.

Sometimes I find the courage somewhere. Probably from warm hands on my shoulder trying to say: "I'm here for you. Here. Now. " In the heroism I find in that moment I finally say what my heart wants to say without spraying poison in my blood vessels: "I hate you. "

So intense can love be and how love and hate are close together, which makes me say that I hate him with an intense feeling.

Do not get me wrong, I do not live to hate him. I live to make mistakes and suffer as he eight to do. But I do live to love: not because it has to, but because it is a part of life. Hatred is a part of life too.

Hate is a part and he is a part of my life. That is why I look up, annoyed, when they say, 'Forget it, live on as if he never existed. "

I cannot. Don't they see? My past determines my present and the future is ... far. Unreachable. Sometimes that causes pain: the realization of your powerlessness over your future. You cannot control who you meet, who you will love or hate.

But what hurts more is that the past will never let go. The past forms the present, it reminds you every day in your history, of your mistakes. And though some may say that the meaning of life is "learning from your mistakes" so "you won't make them again" – I am not like them.

I'm not like them because I do not keep live in the past: I just try to live. Each person is marked by its history. Nobody can be free from any blame, no one can exist with a clean conscience and its life untouched. It cannot because otherwise you wouldn't be a human.

Comforting thought, isn't it? However, this does not justify his actions. Nor my pain.

"But do not worry," I say to the world.

"I'm here like you're there for me. With your splendor, your gray and dirt. I love you, like you love me. I accept you as you are – your light and darkness – accept me as I am. "

Then – and then – I finally can say his name. Not the act, because that brings only pain with it. And pain was not welcome. Not now. Maybe later in the future, if I can look back like some people say, ''He belongs to the past," because the pain eased and my heart is hardened. There alone. Not now, not in the future that lies spread over days and lonely nights.

There are days I don't dare to speak his name. Those days are becoming less.

I await the day that I can speak it casually and carelessly. I wait.