I hate that you make me smile with your presence. I hate the way my body craves your touch, however slight, however fleeting. I hate that you consume my thoughts. I hate the high I get when you’re around and the crashing low when you’re not. I hate that I spend hours thinking of tracing the lines of you with gentle fingertips, of what your face would look like while looking down at me, of the taste of your lips. I hate that I want to know every single inch of you as well as I know my own face.
Feelings are messy. They’re inconvenient and frustrating and intense and I don’t want them. I hate that you make me feel them. I want to be cold. I want to be closed off. But you… you melt my armor and make me want to lay bare my most tender parts. I hate that you turn me into a giggling fool, as soft and pliable as gold when it is my wish to be unbending steel. I hate that every cell in my body seeks out yours as if they depend on you to survive.
I hate that I spend my days wishing you were mine, not ever knowing if you will be. I hate that you’ll never read these words. I hate that you’ll never know how just one look from you will turn my mood from dark to light. I hate that I will likely have to watch you love another. I hate that I’ll have to let you slip from my grasp. I hate that I have to worship you from afar. I hate that I am scared to tell you how badly I want you for fear of being rejected by you.
I hate that I fear losing you when I’ve never even had you…
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