If there’s one thing I hate,
It’s the word, “love.”
Everybody is in love with love.
With the flowers and chocolates and kisses and caresses,
It makes me sick.
It makes me want to cry.
Not because I don’t want it,
But because I know I don’t get to try.
There’s a guy who happens to be my best friend.
He’s smart, suave, and ****, but to what end?
I feel as though I want to drown in his breath, but I know that is only a dream.
Real love is never equal.
We idealize it to be a perfect give and take,
But it’s more likely going to be one person selling their soul for the object of their affections.
Giving every part of them that they can,
To receive pittance in return.
Maybe I’m just a cynic.
But I have yet to see “true love.”
Don’t get me wrong—I’ve felt more deeply for him than anyone else.
But in the grand scheme of things, it’s all just one big joke.
A great cosmic prank made by the universe.
We all search for love, and many of us never find it.
If we do, it’s even fewer who find it returned.
I hate myself and how I feel,
Not because he’s a bad guy (he’s probably better than 80% of the male population I’ve known),
But because I know he doesn’t feel the same.
So why do I harbor this sudden hate for a word so gentle and vulnerable?
Perhaps it’s because I’ve been neglected by it.
No one who isn’t family has shown me love.
There’s friendship, sure, but it doesn’t hold a candle to love.
That burning sensation in your skin as you feel as though you would do anything to make them happy, to keep them safe.
The ache in your chest when they want something you can’t give them.
Because, in the end,
I’ve always felt as though I was cursed.
To be a female and to remain unwanted is a pitiful thing.
I still don’t know what it is that I’m doing wrong.
I’m pretty enough when I try.
I’m smarter than your average teenager.
I have opinions that I’ve formed for myself, and I know how to support them.
So why doesn’t anyone want to give me the time of day?
I know it’s not what I say.
Other girls are the same, and they managed to find someone who is their match.
So why am I ignored?
Why am I invisible?
Even you, love, can’t give me a single reason as to why you don’t feel how I do.
I’ve never understood why people are so infatuated with love. Sure, everyone wants to feel important.
That’s just the human condition.
But, the idea of sappy, Hallmark-greeting-card love, full of promises and truth?
I suppose I only hate it because I can’t have it.
Honestly, I hate almost everything about him.
I wouldn’t change a thing, but I still hate him for what he makes me feel.
I hate feeling vulnerable and weak.
That’s what he does to me.
Breaks me down into a shivering mess of a person, destroying all of my barriers and still managing to smile and say, “you’re okay. I’m not going anywhere.”
He says he enjoys being around me.
Why does he have to make it so hard?
I hate the way that he makes me feel.
I just wish he would hold me tight and never let go. Is that too much to ask?
Am I going crazy?
Sometimes, I wonder.
I hate him and his stupid cute brown eyes,
The ones I want to drown in.
I despise the smile he gives me when he first sees me, how it makes me want to melt.
I hate how all I can think about is how he would feel if his mouth touched mine.
I loathe the way his hands seem to be the perfect size to hold my own.
I hate the soft blond hair that I want to bury my hands in.
I hate the sense of humor we share.
I hate our favorite music, the songs he always plays when I’m around.
I don’t want to just be friends.
But I will, because painful life with him around is better than nothing at all.