I love the things you hate about yourself.
I love the things you hate about yourself. I love the single curl that falls to your face, everytime we kiss. I love the greenish color of your beautiful eyes that look down at me with so much wonder and surprise. I love how you squeeze my hand when you get nervous. I love you. I am utterly and completely in love with every aspect that makes up you. Why must you hate yourself? I was told from a very young age that confidence and self actualization was the key to happiness. Although you’ve never showed signs of those two, I loved you and I was so sure that you loved me too.
I hate you.
I hate you. I hate that you were so unhappy. I hate you for not telling me. I hate you for breaking my heart everytime you cried. I hate that I never knew you cried. I hate that you were hurting inside. I hate that you left me without a proper goodbye. All I got was a note. A long, tear-stained note and by the time I finished reading, I was unsure whether those tears were mine or yours. The night you killed yourself, you killed me too. We were never believers in cheesy romance, for we felt the passion in sleeping under the stars, and running away from reality. I’m still here. I did not die to be with you because no matter how much I hate you for leaving me in this barren wasteland... I know you wouldn’t want that. I love all the things you hate about yourself, and I hate that I still love you.