sometimes, i hate you.
probably not you. i hate what you do. and how you make me feel worthless. even though you're not trying. you're just a boy. you wouldn't know you were hurting me if i was bleeding on your sweater. i hate you and your hormones and your need for something different, whether it serves you well or not. i hate you and your misunderstanding of love. i don't know if i hate you more with her, or without me. but i hate you.
you should be here with me, watching the snow through the living room window.
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