Hatred

People tell me that they find it amazing that I can't hold a grudge.
I tell them its because I don't see the point and while that's mostly true it's really because I'll forget why I was ever mad in the first place about two days after it happens.
But the one thing I'll never forget is what you did to me.
Now I don't know if that's because of the resulting PTSD or the fact that it went on for so long but I know it will always be there.
My therapist used to ask me if I ever had nightmares about it.
I told her no because at the time I thought she meant the ones with monsters under your bed or the killer in your closet.
But now I know what she meant.
The scariest dream I had after you left was the one where you were back together with my mother and ever was acting like it never happened.
I woke up terrified that you'd still be there, asleep in the chair where it all began.
You told me it'd feel good.
You told me I'd get used to it.
You told me to not tell my mother because she would think you were one the bad people.
What you didn't tell me was that you were one of the bad people.
I trusted you.
I loved you.
You were my father.
People ask me if I forgive you.
I tell them no.
People ask if I want closure with you.
I tell them no.
People ask me if I hate you.
I tell them no.
And don't think that my refusal to hate is for you.
It's not.
But it would take to much of my time and effort to spend my days hating you.
I refuse to let you take any more of me than you have.