I did not love you. I do not miss you. I don’t hate you. I never did. I am happy you were never there. I feel nothing about you being gone.
I cried at your funeral, I still cry sometimes. I feel bad for the way you died. Just the way I might feel sorry for a character in a movie who was just a ficticous stranger.
It hurts that you didn’t care enough to be around. It hurts when they tell me you were kind and generous despite your ways. You were not kind to me. You gave a stranger a car. You were kind like that. We walked kilometers in the rain.
I hated when mummy spoke bad about you. Not because it was unfair, but because it was her choice. It was her mistake. I was angry for very long. I know now she is human. I didn’t know. She was very young. Young people make lots of mistakes.
I don’t judge you. It still hurts. It is how it is.