Hate

I have to write about Kylla. Yes, I’ve already written a poem about her, but it wasn’t enough to fully process everything and move on. I couldn’t put it into writing before because I hadn’t fully processed it all.

I remember copying and pasting my friends’ questions into an LLM just to generate responses. I didn’t want to sound rude or ignore them. But most of all, I didn’t want to face those feelings every time someone asked about Kylla.

So here it is.

The first thing I’ll say is that it’s been difficult—not just because of the sadness of losing a child, but because I didn’t know how to deal with the feeling of hate. Yes, hate.

I hated people who gave me hope. I hated people who promised me it would be okay. I hated those who tried to “lift me up”—when, in actual fact, that wasn’t what I needed at all. What I needed first was money. Secondly, I needed people to stop demanding attention from me just to satisfy their own selfish curiosity.

This is one side of losing someone that I already had some idea about. When I’ve encountered people in grief before, I’ve always been very cautious about what I offer. I can never guarantee that things will be okay—because even as a doctor, I have very limited influence over the outcome of an illness.

Now that I’m the one in this situation, hearing people around me say that Kylla will be okay, I can’t help but feel disgusted. I know how powerless we actually are. These people may have good intentions, but they are far from being able to influence any outcome for Kylla.

So yes, hate was the dominant feeling I had to deal with during that time. Sadness was there, of course, but hate was the one that felt unmanageable—because it came with guilt.

Why would I hate people who “love” me? Yeah, well. Feelings are feelings. We can’t control how we feel, but we can acknowledge them and learn to manage them.

I’m sure this is quite eye-opening for many who read it. I’m different. I’ve accepted that.