I want to tell you I hate you but I can’t, because hate is pretty close to the opposite of how I feel.

Don’t take that the wrong way, I don’t love you, as I don’t love much, and am close to truth when I say my one feeling is “general apathy,”

But you were pretty cool.

And I could get used to you. And how your hair falls weightless to your shoulders, or how you mispronounce words with your not-New-England-Accent, or how your smile lights up my entire life.

I could get used to it. And I was.

Until you left. And now I need to get used to it being gone.