i tell myself, and the rest of the world that i hate you, but the truth is i can't hate you, as much as i want to; it's psychically, psychologically and emotionally impossible for me to hate you. but i do hate myself. i hate myself for still thinking about you, for still caring about you, for still missing you, and for still loving you. i hate myself for pretending that it doesn't hurt, when it does; all the time. and recently it's been fucking unbearable.