I Hate

I hate that I'm starting to feel like if you say, "No," to me, I'll break into a hundred little pieces and never be put back together.

I hate that I'm afraid to talk, because I don't want to hear what you have to say in reply.

I hate that I'm sitting here loving you, waiting for you to say it first so that I can say it back.

I hate knowing for an absolute fact that if I say it first, this will never work.

I hate you, just a little bit, for completely messing with me even when you don't know you're doing it.

I hate time.

I hate that when I said the word "February," in reference to the two of us, you looked at me like I was crazy.

I hate that I want to be with you forever, and you don't talk about the future.

I really, really, really hate that you got news about your job and didn't tell me.

I hate that I know I have to tell you these things and somehow figure out how to do it without sounding insane.

*Of course, I was raised never to say "hate," so please substitute "strongly dislike" for the word "hate," if you'd rather.