I hate how you used to talk when I was watching TV.
I hate the way you’d laugh when you thought something was funny.
I hate how you’d pretend to laugh at my jokes, even though I could tell the difference.
I hate how you’d use up all the hot water and left me to take cold showers.
I hate how you’d never let me go out with my friends.
I hate that you used my toothbrush.
I hate that stupid dog you got.
I hate the way you drove.
I hate how you’d always complain about how hard your day was. I work too.
I hate how you walked on my carpet with your shoes on.
I hate how you’d always interrupt me when I was talking.
I hate your parents.
I hate that scrunchy look your eyes got when you smiled.
I hate the way you left me alone.
I hate how you’re happy and don’t even think of me.

But mostly, I hate the fact that I could never hate you at all.