I hate how I am always the first to call
or we don't speak at all.
I'm a nuisance to you,
a nuisance to myself.
I was born to come in second place.

I hate how I always say too much
and then try to blame you when you digress with the words I put in your mouth.
You aren't even a friend to me,
but I'm lonely
and you oblige to talk.

I hate how I want to hang up when you finally fall silent on the other end
because I've wasted my whole day wishing that we could actually converse,
but I don't until I absolutely have to.
We go our own ways, both with an unheard murmur of disdain.

It seems we've switched places, as the years slow down.
Went from regretting ever saying hello
to refusing to drift apart.
It's already happened with everyone else, but I've learned to reject change.

I hate how lonely I am
and how unconcerned you are.
We both know we're stuck in this routine,
but neither of us care enough to turn around.