I hate you, for so many reasons. You pain me, my wife, my daughter, my parents, my brother, my friends, and my colleagues. Sometimes you even pain the strangers around me.
I hate you most because you threaten to take me from my wife and daughter. I can’t imagine how this would hurt my wife—her suffering, her tears, her loss. I want nothing less for her. And my daughter wouldn’t remember me. My wife might lose me and my daughter would forget.
I can be strong and positive. I am. But I still hate you, because you present the ultimate threats. These thoughts of death are only fleeting, but still present. It is only natural, despite my resounding positivity.
I apologize to those who might be hurt reading these thoughts, but I don’t want to sit alone with them anymore. They are too heavy.
I hate you cancer. You cause so much pain. You have invaded my life. I can’t talk about myself without talking about you because you are so large a part of my life. I permit a medical team to poison me in order to kill you. The poison feels terrible, like death. I hate you more during these toxic times because I feel so ill. But you are worse than the treatment and I hate you.
You have modified the landscape of my life, taken me from my home and work, and temporarily (hopefully) robbed me of my ability to care for my wife and daughter. You make me feel helpless; you have taken control. I fear your threats more than anything I have ever feared.
I hate you cancer, but I still love, and you can never take this. I love myself, my wife, my daughter, my parents, my brother, my friends, and my colleagues. I even love some strangers. You can never take this, even if you make me ill and kill me. You can never take my love. I am a caring individual, and you can never take that from me. I hate you. You are an evil part of me, and I hope you die.
No longer am I alone with these thoughts.