I own nothing. The Almighty Larson owns it all.
Hate.
Verb. To dislike intensely or passionately; feel extreme aversion for or extreme hostility toward; detest.
That's the dictionary definition. I've always thought of "hate" as just a word. Not a feeling, but a word. A word used against your enemies to hurt them. "Hate" is a word. A very strong word. A word you have to be careful what name or pronoun you put it in front of. That was my mistake.
"Don't tell me what to do!"
I'd simply told her not to stay out on the fire escape too long. It was getting cold and I didn't want her to get sick.
"I'm just lookin' out for you!"
I shouldn't have yelled back. I should've just held her and told her calmly, but I was so stressed out and we'd been fighting over the stupidest shit all week I guess I just couldn't help it.
"I can take care of myself Collins! I'm not a little kid!"
She was right. She's not . . . wasn't a little kid.
"I never said you were!"
But I implied it. Tom Collins, for a smart person, you're really stupid.
"I can read between the lines Collins! You know what? Just forget it! Get away from me!"
Away.
Verb. From this or that place; off.
That was the first time she'd ever told me to get away from her and actually meant it. It hurt to hear her say that. Knowing me and my temper, I'd already predicted what was going to happen and I hate myself for it. I fucking hate myself!
There it is. "Hate."
We fought and yelled half the night. She said some things she didn't mean and I did too, but nothing she could've thought of is worse than what I ended the fight with.
"I HATE YOU!"
There's that word again. The word that sent her to the bedroom, crying. The word that put her in the hospital. The word I tried to cover up by holding her in my arms and not letting go. Even when the doctors told me I'd have to wait, I refused. I wanted to stay with her for as long as I could. And when her heart expired, I wanted to be there, covering her.
I knew the time was coming. I couldn't stop it.
"Collins . . ."
I'll never forget her soft, raspy, helpless voice.
"I . . . I lov . . ."
She never got to finish it. I never got to hear it one last time. I sat on the bed behind her and held her in my arms as I thought about what she was going to say. How, even though I hurt her so badly, she was still going to use the word "love." I knew I had to finish it. She couldn't hear me, but I needed to finish it.
"I love you . . . my Angel."
Sure, "hate" is a strong word, but it can never beat what Angel and I had . . . still have.
Love.
A profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.
Dictionary and my own personal definition.
Review please.