Disclaimer: I obviously do not own Naruto or I wouldn't be writing crappy fanficions.

AN- Right. I wrote this about a year ago and decided to post it. Though I am concerned that it's a bit unclear or confusing in certain parts :/ Please do review, and give me your honest opinion. I love knowing your thoughts on my story. Constructive critisim is always welcome. I like to know where I went wrong and what I did right, so I know how to improve in the future. Thank you :)

~Misty-Rose20

Hate. Resentment.

I never would have thought I'd feel such things. I used to be a happy, positive child, with a future almost as bright as my heart.

Yet I could feel it, bubbling to the surface when I saw his face. The bitter pounding of my heart. The burning venom that made me want to spit and scowl. The way my hands would clench. The way revenge pounded in my ears.

I never thought I'd feel so strongly about him. Never thought I'd become this.

How is it possible to turn such devoted love into such burning hatred? He was always a master of manipulation, and it was scary how easily he could mold me into what he wanted.

But then, he manipulated everyone.

The line between love and hate is blurred. They are both strong emotions that utterly consume you and bind you to another. The opposite of love is not hate, but indifference. Indifference feels nothing and cares nothing.

And indifference, I found, hurts more than hostility and hate.

"You're not worth my time," he told me, and that had cut deeper than his attacks.

Because when he attacked me, he acknowledged me. And I, despite hating him, still needed his acknowledgement.

I despised that about myself.

But some things never change.

One of the things I hated about him was the cold and uncaring way he regarded everyone.

Now I hated the cold and uncaring way I regarded everyone.

The bitter irony was clear to me, and I wondered if I was becoming he who I sought to destroy. I still had a small light shimmering in my heart; but what scared and invigorated me was what lurked in the shadows, behind that light of my kindness. Always, always there.

He and I were the same.

I was just hiding behind a mask.

When I was alone, thinking of him, I could feel the burning drops of hatred seeping into the weaknesses of my heart, breaking it down like the bite of a snake. When I heard his voice, I could feel my heart tighten as the snake wound itself tighter around me. And that vicious resentment was there, under my smiles and false words.

My eyes must have been piercing and cold.

And I hated it.

Hated the uncaring, harsh black my heart had become. Hated the surge of hot and burning energy I received when I saw him.

But I also lived for it.

Hate is safer than love. Love is a vulnerably, trusting someone with the power to break you. You expect the ones you hate to hurt you, but when loved ones- trusted ones- betray you, the pain and shock are unbearable. I vowed never to give someone that sort of power over me again.

My entire life had revolved around him, and still did. I loved and admired him as a child, and when he broke that bond, I was bound to him with hate.

And so I focused on my most important bond, the hatred that tied me to him. But then I was distracted by new bonds of friendship. They were a chink in my armor, a weakness to exploit. So I cut those other ties, for holding me back.

But they were really holding me up (together)

I hate hate.

Ironic, isn't it? Yet it was the last thing he gave me, and I couldn't let it go.

My hardened heart and cold eyes protected me. The burning resentment that tingled in each nerve gave me motivation. The vicious anger that hid within me drove me to fight.

Hate was my shield, protecting me from feelings like hurt and guilt and betrayal. It kept me from shattering. It gave me a reason to live.

But only for a while.

Because while it protected me, it destroyed me. The poison moved slowly through me, killing who I was and who I could have been. Like a blazing fire, it became wild and uncontrolled and burned everything in its path.

Hate was all I had left.

As I grew older, my hate grew stronger, and I clung to it like a child to their blanket.

So when I found out that he lied, that he too had worn a mask but to hide all the right things rather than all the wrong, all I could do was redirect my hate and wind it tighter around me to protect me from the guilt.

When did his black heart become fake and mine real? His mask hid his light behind the darkness, and mine hid my darkness behind the light.

But now there were no more masks.

And these red eyes had failed to see.

My reality was nothing more than an elaborately spun illusion.

I was a fool to think we could ever be the same. He was again the better one, and it seemed I was always destined to be his bitter shadow. Unnoticed, dark, and always following. I was never able to unstick myself from him and he could never shake me off. Like a shadow, my every move had mirrored his.

Even in his death he was the puppeteer and I his unknowing puppet.

He had pulled the strings so expertly in the past that even though the threads were cut I still danced for him on my own.

And so with eyes as red as the blood I'd spilled, I directed my hate to avenge his light because my burning hate was all I had and all I knew how to do.

But time eventually turns flames to embers.

I grew exhausted, and the fire went out. And when the fire went out, I was left alone in the dark, because without the hate there was nothing. The beacon of light my heart had once been had faded away long ago, outshined and burned out.

The Uchiha were known for their destructive fire, and like their fire, perhaps it was simply the Uchiha's fate to burn out. Destructive, amazing, and strong, burning everything else away in a blaze of glory before being smothered by their own smoke.

Hate had flourished within me, and I had nursed it. It had protected me from things I didn't want to feel, but it burned away who I was.

I am empty.

But I was already broken long ago by two fingers to my forehead and tomorrow.

Because tomorrow never comes.

Now all that is left of me is a trail of ashes, scattered by the winds of remorse.

And I hate it.

End.