I hate you.

I truly, truly do.

But the you I hate, isn't the real you.

It's the you in my mind.

The you I fell in love with, laughed with, grew with, cried with.

Cried over.

I hate that you.

That you ripped out everything, destroyed everything we had built.

In one afternoon.

I don't hate the real you.

I hate the you that you made me see.

The you that you built up and made for me, the wool that got slowly thicker over my eyes.

Until the only thing I could see was what you wanted me to see.

Most of all, I hate the you that took my wonderful wool world away from me.

You've moved on.

Forgotten about little old me.

But it's not that easy for me.

I don't hate the real you.

I just hate the person who fell in love with you.