I hate her. I loved her once, but she has become what she herself hated.

How does she expect me to continue to love her when she has become what she hates?

She’s abusing me, but there are no wounds to show the authorities, so I can’t complain.

I’d rather if she hit me, I could take that. I can’t take what she does, and she knows it, so she just does it worse.

...What’s worst is that this could almost be about me sometimes. I know my boyfriend thinks, and has thought, this same thing about me when I act like her.

But, at least I don’t act like it all the time, and he knows how to snap me out of it instantly. Thank god for that, or neither of us might be here today.

I admire my grandfather’s strength. I hope I and my husband have that same tenacity.

I will never admire my grandmother though. She is a leech.