A man who loves you won’t call you a *****
or a *****, or say you’re crazy, or say you’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to him
and ******* 2 hours later like somehow that will  undo the memories inside your brain of all the ugly words he’s ever said
So why am I stuck in a limbo of knowing this isn’t what I’m supposed to be spending my life like and staying because it’s comfortable
Maybe if I loved you less you wouldn’t resent me so much
Maybe if I was a little less of this and a little more of that you’d hold my hand in the car on the way to dinner
Why does loving you feel like muscle memory to me
Why does hating you feel like breathing
Why don’t I hate you enough to walk away
Maybe I’m afraid loving someone else would feel too safe after all of the wars I’ve fought with you