I hate you. I sometimes throw the word "hate" around like most people do. "I hate generic cola." Hate is actually a strong emotion that I try not to feel very often. You, however, seem to be able to bring it out in me.
You've robbed me of a year of my life, and I'm not done yet. You stole my breast, my energy, my hair, and my sense of well-being. You even stole my dignity several times. You cost me more money than I could possibly have come up with on my own. You kept me from family events and kid's concerts and ball games.
Every time your name comes up, it brings devastation to the faces of anyone in ear-shot. Nothing good ever comes from a conversation that starts out "Guess who has cancer." Nothing. This year, you even found a way to torment a few people for a second time. Way to go! You must be so proud.
I found out this morning that you took Bob. Bob was my friend, you shitball disease. While Bob isn't currently in pain, everyone who knew him is hurting more than we thought possible. We'll go on. We'll say that we defeated you by moving on and living life, but you continue to leave scars...inside and out.
I hate you.