the person whom i hate

I've only ever hated one person. 
There are people I dislike. There are people I avoid. There are people who bring out my inner mean girl when I see them. There are people who I have claimed to hate, but in the end it's more of a strong dislike. My parents taught well that hate is indeed a strong word and a strong action.  But there is one person whom I hate. 
I've known her for a long time. We used to be on decent terms, but around middle school and junior high we had a bit of a falling out. She was awkwardly naïve and never quite seemed to fit in. She tried to be a good friend, but in the end her petty and self-centered actions stepped on a lot of toes and hurt a lot of feelings. In high school she became a bit popular - though she was never on the top of the social ladder, she wasn't at the bottom either. Everyone called her "sweet" and "nice", but they didn't truly know her. 
The week she graduated, her best friend asked permission to court her. During the first three months of her new relationship, we got on fabulously. She was happy, loving, and pleasant to be around. Her insecurities and her anger and her doubt were gone. I thought perhaps we could be close again. I thought perhaps everything would work out for the best.
Then the "honeymoon stage" passed. The self-doubt and anger had been temporarily abated, but they still remained; at the first sign of hardship they appeared again, fiercer and stronger than ever. I watched as she pushed away the people who loved her - I watched as she ignored texts and left calls unanswered. I watched as she closed her bedroom door each evening, hardly speaking to anyone. Over the past year and a half, I have learned to dislike her... Over time, I have come to hate her. 
I hate her for shutting people out, while at the same time I hate her for allowing friends and family to love her. I hate her for making her boyfriend cry. I hate how she seems to make every conversation self-centered and depressing. I hate her physical unattractiveness. I hate her awkwardness. I hate how her sarcasm and witty words make people unhappy. I hate how, at times, she has weighed more than a hundred pounds. I hate the fact that she wakes up every morning and continued to exist. I hate everything about her. She is the only person I have ever cussed out. Sometimes she makes me so angry I want to hurt her. Sometimes she is so worthless I just want her to die.
But there's something that stops me. I might not love her, but that doesn't change the fact that God loves her. He loved her enough to give His precious Son in her place, and He loves her enough to hold her in His arms even when she tries to push Him away. I might not love her, but her boyfriend loves her; the same best friend that held her hand when she first mentioned the word "depression" still tells her that he loves her every day, assuring her that she is worthwhile and loved by him, and even more importantly, loved by God. Her family and friends don't always understand her, but they love her, too. 
I don't believe I will ever come to love her, but someday I will learn to accept her. Someday I will cease to taunt her every time she makes a mistake. Someday I will no longer tell her that her life is pointless, that it would be better if she were dead. Someday I will tell her that she doesn't make everything "depressing", that she can bring joy and happiness too. Someday we will come to an understanding, she and I. 
Because the person whom I hate 
is myself.