I Hate That I Love You

I hate you.

I hate that you don't stand next to me, but across from me.

I hate that I will only be able to see you the way I want to in private.

I hate that just by looking at me, you force my knees to go weak.

I hate how you use your eyes to speak, instead of just saying it.

I hate how you smile, even without your retainer, at almost all my jokes.

I hate how toxic you are, and how I cannot seem to get enough of it.

I hate when you leave me on read, like every time I reach out to you,

I hate when I don't notice our arms brush.

I hate when you slouch off downstairs, because it means I won't see you for quite awhile.

I hate why you can't be with me.

I hate why you distance yourself,

I hate why I didn't want to the first time, and why you didn't want to the second.

You said, the second time around, what I was thinking the first. And when the words escaped your lips, my heart collapsed in on itself.

I hate that you're one of my closest friends.

I hate that I've known you my whole life.

I hate that I love you.

I love how you never wear a shirt around the house,

I love the way you look deep into my eyes, every time they meet.

I love it when you smile, it truly warms my heart, like a candle on a rainy night.

I love it when you laugh, because I know the joke was really funny.

I love it when we talk, because it's always about the world around us, through politics or religion, or science.

I love how you move your shoulders when you walk,

I love how you duck your head when you set off firecrackers. Your eyes met mine, and they lit up with that smile. The fourth was very fun, and it was mostly because of you.

I love how we click, even if we're arguing. I still want to talk to you.

We're both very lonely, and when you cried that night I wanted to end my life.

I felt so utterly empty, yet full of loathing at the same time. I cracked your heart in more than two, and I think it's quite fair that you did the same to me.

I love you, and I am terrified that you do not love me.

I wouldn't be surprised, even though you told me that, "It's not wrong for us to have feelings for each other..."

Well, I think I fucked that up pretty good. I didn't want to have sex, then I did, then I didn't.

When we did, it was breathtaking. It was passionate, it was the best I'd ever had.

But it had to end. And when it did, you told me to get dressed, and that we needed to talk about this. You said that it would rip everything to shreds, that we had to keep this extremely quiet, that we couldn't do it again. Not soon, at least.

There were quite a few reasons for you to say that.

And, frankly, I don't blame you. I'm hopelessly in love with you, still.

I hate that I love you.