you think you’re the villain in my story. the bad chapter. the plot twist that broke the main character. but surprise: i wrote a whole damn book and yeah, maybe there’s a chapter about you, but it’s not the end. it’s just... chapter 7. or like, a weird footnote that made me cry in the middle of a cafe while drinking americano iced coffee i didn’t even want.
and yeah, i got things to say. so here they are.
10 things i think i hate about you. but let’s be honest—hate is just love with all its makeup wiped off and messy hair at 3am.
1. i hate the way you said my name
like it was yours to keep. like it belonged better in your mouth than mine.
you said it like it meant something. like i meant something.
and that was the cruelest part. the words lingered in the air, thick like smoke, and i still can’t figure out if they were ever meant to be breathed in, or just to suffocate me.
2. i hate that you never said goodbye
no dramatic exit. no final text. just... silence.
like i was a season and you were done watching. you didn't even bother to close the book.
the worst part? i kept waiting for a plot twist, for the words that would bring closure, but you were already halfway out the door. i should’ve known when you started leaving your jacket in my closet—little breadcrumbs to pretend you weren’t really gone.
3. i hate how you made me feel seen
you looked at me like you saw stars. and for a second, i believed i was sky.
then you blinked and forgot how to look.
it’s like you were an artist and i was your unfinished masterpiece—something you were working on, but never really intended to finish. you caught a glimpse of the real me, but you didn’t know what to do with it, so you just let it hang there. out of place. unfinished.
4. i hate that song you played that one time
it’s on every playlist now. it ruins my shuffle like a ghost.
music used to heal me. now it just remembers you.
every time the first note drops, i’m transported to a time when i thought we were invincible.
but the song? it’s not invincible. it’s fragile. and every time it plays, a tiny piece of me shatters with it.
5. i hate how we laughed
stupid, loud, unfiltered.
the kind of laugh that makes your stomach hurt and your heart louder.
how dare you give me something that real and then leave?
i can still hear it in my head sometimes, echoing through the quiet parts of my day. like a ghost of something i’ll never have again.
6. i hate that stupid hoodie
you left it. i wore it. i smelled like you for weeks.
now it’s in the back of my closet like a haunted memory that still fits too well.
every time i put it on, it’s like wearing your presence without you. like pretending i’m still close to you when i’m not. it’s like the hoodie became a lifeline. but now, it’s just a reminder of how much i wanted you—wanted us—to fit.
7. i hate how you weren’t even trying
and still—you had me.
effortless. like heartbreak was your second language.
i remember the way you looked at me, like you didn’t have to try hard to get me to feel something. it was all too easy. maybe it was too easy, and that’s what killed me. i wanted to be more than just something you could have. but there i was—just another star you captured in your galaxy of forgotten constellations.
8. i hate that i compared everyone to you
like you were some gold standard when you were just shiny fool’s gold all along.
i still check if their smile feels like yours. it never does. maybe that’s good.
but it doesn’t stop me from expecting the same spark in their eyes, the same little laugh, the same half-awkward way of talking about nothing. you made me want things that didn’t belong to me. you taught me to search for something that doesn’t exist outside of the movie in my head.
9. i hate how you made me soft
i was concrete before you.
you turned me into rain.
you taught me how to care in a world where apathy was easier. you made me believe that tenderness could exist without hurting. but here’s the thing: love isn’t always soft. sometimes, it’s jagged. it’s sharp edges that cut deeper than you expect. and i’m left here trying to rebuild the parts of me that you left too soft, too fragile, too exposed.
10. and yeah, i hate that i don’t hate you. not even a little. not even at all.
(i stole that line. but i meant it more than she did.)
i don’t hate you, and that’s what kills me. i can’t hate the pieces of you that made me feel alive, even if they were the same pieces that shattered me.
i hate that i still think about you.
i hate that the sound of your name still makes my heart beat a little faster, even if i know you’re not the one who’s going to catch it anymore.
i hate that a part of me will always love you. no matter how hard i try to outrun it.
you weren’t a disaster.
you were the fire i walked into thinking i’d be the exception to burning.
and now look at me.
smoke in my lungs. ash in my throat. still writing poems in your shape.
but hey, we move.
we learn to turn our scars into stars.
eventually the songs won’t hurt.
eventually your name will sound like just another word.
eventually i’ll laugh without the echo of you in it.
until then, this blog post is all yours.
read it and weep. or don’t.
either way, thanks for the trauma. made a great aesthetic.
and a hell of a blog post.
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