I hate when you say you care, then you tell me you dont want to talk anymore. I hate when you tell me you would drive down with me to Cleveland, because everyone and their aunt knows that’s a lie. I hate when you tell me you’re overwhelmed by my texts, imagine being told youre dying in a new way every other week and then tell me youre the one who’s overwhelmed. I hate looking at old pictures of us when you had that sparkle in your beautiful heart-melting brown eyes, now you wont even look me in mine. I hate when you tell me you still want to be friends, but then you refuse to sit down and hang out with me, ya know? like friends do. I hate when I try to explain to you why I have been acting the way I have been and you just reply with “OK”. I hate that you coerced me into opening up and then completely locked me out of any hope of feeling at home again. I hate you for using me to make you happy until you felt that you didn’t need me anymore and left me wondering where I went wrong. I hate the fact my self confidence was exterminated like a nest of cockroaches. I hate the fact I changed who I was to be the perfect person for you and yet that still wasn’t ever enough. I hate the fact you said I never made time when I put my life on hold for you. I hate the fact I rearranged the alphabet to put I and U together but somehow U came before I. I hate the fact you can’t see how abusive and toxic your family is for you. I hate how you think I can just get over you in a weeks time. I hate how you said the only reason you still talked to me was because you were worried. You should be worried. But worried about what you’ve caused. I hate the fact I stopped doing what I love because you thought it was too depressing. This is what I loved. Writing poetry. The reason it’s so **** depressing is because I have no where else to turn with these words. I hate thinking back and reading every time you told me to love me. You used to call me a silver tongue with my sweet, love filled words. Yet look who the one is that spoke empty words. My words still have the same volume as they always did. Yours are the ones with empty meaning now. I hate how you gave me hope that someone in this ****** up world could ever actually love me. I hate the fact that when I opened up about trying to **** myself. Three times. You blamed me for being depressed. I hate the fact you tell me you care and then ignore me for days at a time. Even after listing out all these things I hate. There is still one thing I cant bring myself to hate. You.