I hate how you say you will stop by at my place, just for a while, and then stay for hours, ‘till late at night, joking and fooling around, being so wonderfully yourself and making me feel like myself.
I hate that feeling of emptiness you leave when you say you’ll come and finally don’t… And hate how much I love seeing you on my doorstep when you didn’t inform that you’d come see me but come and set off that unexpected feeling of good surprise.
I hate how you enter my heart the way you enter my place, so easily, rightfully and carefully… with that stupid gorgeous smile of yours, and this joyful attitude.
I hate how you will stare at me, right in the eyes and ask how I am. How I will not answer ‘cause I absolutely don’t know how to say how I feel. Because I don’t know how I feel. Let alone the mess in my feelings when you’re here. And I hate how you’ll reiterate your question, till I answer, and how you’ll analyze what I’ve said, to truly know if I’ve said the truth or just dodge the question.
I hate that look I catch sometimes. That look of yours that I don’t fully understand. With something more under… more than just “looking at me”… so genuine, sweet, warm and true.
I hate how you text me in the middle of the night “just to wake me up” and how, then, we’re good for a few hours of texting serious or funny shit. How you text me ‘cause you can’t sleep, or just to continue the conversation we were having all day.
I hate how you make me feel so comfortable, how it’s so easy to talk with you without even being afraid of being judged. How you understand my past, without needing a lot of explanation, because you kinda went through the same things.
I hate how you will take my side, when I explain to you what happened with my family, how I feel about them. And I hate how you understand that I don’t want to be close to them, how you won’t judge me for that or tell me to make an effort ‘cause, hey, it’s family!
I hate how you talk with me… about your friends, your family or about what happened at work with that stupid colleague or customer who came 5 minutes before closing time.
I hate how you reveal to me how you felt when your parents divorced. How you felt about your father’s behavior. How you confide to me what hurts you or makes you simply happy, alive… How you trust me at the point of telling me the personal meaning of your tattoo, explaining, showing your soul… How you understand the meaning of mine.
I hate how you know I’m a good listener and trust me with this. Showing pieces of your vulnerability as I show some of mine to you.
I hate how you trust me and how I trust you…
I hate how you know me and don’t use my weaknesses to increase your strength. Know me too well maybe… Or just remember too well what I’ve said. Because sometimes you don’t cross the boundaries I’ve set, while I’d like you to cross them. Stupid mind.
I hate how, when you’re out with your friends, joking and drinking, you somehow still find time to text me and joke around, because something that happened where you’re having fun reminds you of something we’ve talked about when we were together.
I hate how sometimes, when you’re still with your friends, you text me and ask if you can come, and leave them… Even if it’s just for an hour, or less.
I hate how people assume that we’re together. And how you dodge it, just smiling and goofing around with that stupid laugh of yours.
I hate how, when I run into one of our common acquaintances, they ask me if I’m out with you because they saw you over there. While I didn’t know that you were over there actually, because I was not with you. How they directly assume that we are always together though I don’t know them from you, but from another common friend. I hate how they directly assume that, as if it’s what meant to be.
I hate how you dare. Dare to come to my work place, to pick me up or just because it’s your break or just because you were passing by my street. Dare to stay, be here and want to be here. Dare to want to know what is wrong when I feel bad and cheer me up when I’m down …
And I hate you because I was just fine before you popped into my life on a Wednesday afternoon. Because I had no one in my head, just living day by day without wanting more from a friendship, without needing more, without being aware of the emptiness inside of me.
I hate you because you filled it, this emptiness. And I preferred it when I didn’t know it was there, didn’t know it was that. You show it to me, then fill it and then, when you leave I’m down again and I don’t want that. Because I’ve already fallen really down before and it took me so much time to go back on my feet.
And I hate this piece of paper because it contains everything about you, all the things I feel and that I’d like to tell you but never will.
I hate it because it’s real, because I don’t know if it’s just a friendship or if you too, sometimes wish of more for us.
I hate all this because it makes me… not love you, because I don’t know what love is but… because it makes me want you more. More that I’ll ever have, more than we’ll ever be. Because all this is just my feelings. Not knowing if it’s real or just in my head is slowly killing me.
I hate this. I hate myself and I hate you, because obviously, I can’t love you.
Dammit I hate you… Because once more, you’ve just texted me that you’ve met someone. Leaving me with my loneliness in what is just our friendship.
But mostly, I hate myself for having let you in that much.