Dear Michael,
I hate you. I hate my parents. I hate everyone. And I hate myself.
When they dragged me in this car, you didn't even flinch. You stood right beside me, and you watched as I fought. I fought for us, and you just stood there.
My father was sitting on my bed when I got home. My mother was next to him crying. I'm leaving Michael. I'm leaving and you don't even care.
You showed up when we were walking to the car. I ran to you, and I grabbed onto you. You didn't grab me. You didn't wrap your tattooed arms around my small pale body. You didn't show me that you cared, that it would be okay. It felt like you weren't even there.
You let my dad rip me away. I kicked and I screamed. A crowd was around us at this point. I screamed your name and you just stared at the ground. You didn't even yell back. You didn't even say goodbye.
We've been in the car for almost two hours. I'm going to a place I never thought I'd go to. They're taking me to the crazy house. I'm not fucking crazy. I'm not crazy Michael.
I hate myself so much. I know I should hate you, I should despise your entire being. But I can't. I hate myself because I love you even though you gave up this battle. I hate myself. I hate you. But I hate me more.
Elora
