I hate the fact that….

I hate a lot of things about him.

I hate the fact that he ignores me. He walks by my stature like I was nonexistent or something. Like I was nothing to him. Perhaps I was really nothing. Because I feel like it.

I hate the fact that he expresses his dislike for me with every word that comes out from his mouth. He shows his uninterested face when he gets a glimpse of mine. He marks his territory, even though I was just a seat beside him. He acts as if I was to steal something from him. For a second there I thought he was guarding his heart.

I also hate the fact that he talks about me to his friends like I didn’t have feelings. As if I was an object to laugh at, mainly because of my love for him which grew bigger and bigger as his heart turned smaller and smaller towards me.

But I also hate the fact that when we’re alone, he acts like he has something beneath his skin. Something inside him reserved only for me. Something only for me.

I hate how he gives me hope. With every movement of his, with every swift motion of his arm into mine. With every eye contact, with every look. With everything.

I hate a lot of things about him.

But what I hate the most is that I don’t really hate him.

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3 thoughts on “I hate the fact that….

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