• Hey, I hope you know

    by  • July 21, 2011 • Letting Go • 0 Comments

    I hate you. I hate the way you ask why I’m laughing, I hate that you think you have to know why. I hate the way you smell. The way you talk. The way you scream at people out the window. The way you say the perfect things. I hate the way you are. I hate the hugs. I hate the kisses. I hate your shorts, and your shirt. I hate the way your music sounds. I hate the way every time I’m at your house for a little while we end up cuddling. I hate the way you chased me on your long board. I hate that everything is so simple around you, except now it’s not simple at all. I hate the way you know I left because I didn’t want to be near you, and you came anyway. I hate the way you knew I lied when I said that wasn’t why I left. I hate the way we never finished Dogma. I hate that I had to take Plan B. I hate the way you didn’t want to be near me. I hate when you don’t text me. I hate that you never call me anymore. I hate your combat boots, and your nail polish, and the way your parents think we had sex, when we didn’t. I hate the way you make me tell you why I like you I slept with you, or why I like you. I hate that every song I listen to reminds me of you, or us, or my situation.

    Most of all? I hate the way I love you.
    Second to that is that I hate the way I don’t hate you, Not even a little bit, Not even at all.

    I love the way I fit, anywhere, when I cuddle with you. I love the way when I wear your clothes they smell like you. I love the way we argue, about stupid things. I love the way you smile. I love the way you laugh. I love the way you hide me from the creeps. I love when we go to concerts. I love when you’re drunk and stupid and funny. I love the way we flirt. I love the way we touch, the way we tease. I love the way nothing matter. I love the way you ask why I’m laughing, and get mad when I don’t tell you. I love it when you’re silly. I love that you don’t care when I’m smelly. I love that you cuddle me after concerts and hard nights of partying. I love your hugs, and that little dance we do. I love your eyes, even though I hate brown eyes. I love the way you look, even though I call you ugly. I love the way you paint your nails and the way you dress. I love the way you are around me. I love our inside jokes. I love the way you get mad when my brothers friends protect me. I love the way you break guy code for me. I love the way you used to be mine. I love your hair. I love your scruff. I love your band. I love the way we don’t have to talk.

    I have no clue if I’m IN love with you, But I love you. I may not know what love is, but I found one side of you I didn’t like, but it’s still you, and when I left you at the kitchen table, I wanted nothing more than to be mad at you. Honestly though? I was only mad at myself. When you follow me, I never want you too, but by the time you get to where I am. I just want a hug. When I left today, I lied through my teeth when I said I just wanted to find a way to get ciggerettes, I wanted to get away from that house, from you, from everything. I knew if I said that, you would have thought I didn’t want to see you. I do, I want to see you everyday. Never is there a day when I don’t think of you, never. I want to cuddle and laugh and be like we used to, and I know I must sound like a fucking freak of nature, but I’m sorry that I can’t forget you, anything about you, you changed me. For the better.

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