Obsession In Hate

Throughout my life, I've had a few obsessions. Mostly vices, just for fun, but an academic one (that came too late, I might add), but always positive, something I enjoy. Although I'm an extremely negative person (I'm working on turning that around), I never was obsessed with anything in it, just having those negative feelings. But then I realized, I do have an obsession. An obsession with hate. Something grueling and fearsome, that I don't enjoy, that always brings me down. Weird thing about obsessions, they also come with denial. Nobody wants to admit they're obsessed because, most of the time, it's embarrassing and not something good.

I allowed my obsession to cloud my judgment and I made rash decisions, luckily none that negatively affected me. Heh, not like the one before. So I'm getting off of this obsession relatively easily. "Moving on" always struck me as something that normal, bland, lifeless drones do. If something truly matters to me, there isn't just "moving on", especially if it's still within reach. And I feel this obsession is still within reach. But I'm done reaching. Not because it tires me. But because I realized that holding onto these negative feelings, obsessing about them, is pointless. So this chapter that was started in March, ends now. I thought it would have a bad ending. But looking around at what I have, especially those things that I have obtained in spite of, I would say it's a happy ending. It's the sad beginning that ruins it all.

I think I'm done being depressed. Everything I lost, I have again, but ten times better. I could write for hours on the mental impact and the intricate circumstances surrounding it all, but I'm done obsessing with it. It'll be just another bad memory, something I can call on if the situation ever rose again.
For once, I actually feel good about writing this. The person we used to be..... how much we despise them now.