I hate you.
I know I’m lying even as I think it. Which only makes me hate you more.
I turned back on the future I could have had, for you. I gave away everything, for you. I lost everything, but I didn’t care. Because I thought I didn’t need anything, as long as I had you.
Five years, John. Five years. Didn’t we have something other than a sham? Wasn’t there at least one stupid tiny part of you that loves one stupid tiny part of me? Please, tell me there was one reason to being with me, other than the inherited wealth I had.
Because I loved you. I really did.
And I want to think I loved a man who’s real. Not just someone out of my imagination.
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I gave you my heart, John - wrapped in silk and velvet. It wasn’t a gift that could be returned. So you tossed it into the fire, and blew away the remains.
But guess what?
The ashes of what’s left still come alive at the sight of your face.
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No, no.
I don’t hate you. I don’t think I ever can.
I hate that there is not one stupid tiny part of me, that hates one stupid tiny part of you.
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