They say hate hurts us more than anyone we hate.
Hate doesn’t come naturally to me. It’s a slow-growth process, like mold on Twinkies or McDonald’s fries.
In this case, bitch, I hate you.
I hate you with a pure passion nearly rivaling the love I’ve felt for those I’ve loved in my life. I hate you almost as much as I loved Lali, my baby who died. Lali was a…
