I remember the day I learned to hate. We were sitting on the bathroom floor with pieces of a broken mirror lying around us like confetti. I remember how I saw you looking back at me from the shards of glass. I remember how I felt trapped. I remember the day I learned to hate because of you. It started as a single seed at the pit of my stomach.

I remember how the hate grew into every corner of my body. I feared one day the tendrils would have no more room inside me and they would start crawling out of my mouth. Climbing up the walls, and into every crevice of my life where love could flourish. I remember this cycle of fear and hate lasting for years.

I remember the day I learned to hate. Staring at a mirror into my own reflection, counting every detail that I wanted to change. To this very day, I am still apologizing to myself. Oftentimes, I still find myself coughing up dead leaves of disgust rooted deeply in my body. Oftentimes, I am thankful that I’m the most forgiving person I know.
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Prose poem by Elise Soliva.

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