I hate you. The three little words it is so impossible to say to someone you have loved. You want to scream, and hit them, and shout it out. I. Hate. You. But you can't. Because in your heart of hearts you know what it really means. I love you and I want things to be different.
We always have that one thing, that deal breaker that ruined what our minds, deludedly, perceived as perfect. It could be something they always do, something they never do, one thing that they did or simply that the timing wasn't right. And you want them to change it, you want not to notice it, you want things to have worked. But they haven't-and you can't ever explain what it was you wanted, what you needed, without revealing just how much your heart has hoped for. I hate you really means I want to hate you.
Because things would be so much easier if you could. You may even have ended it-and they did not understand it-and you want so much to explain but they can never understand that it just wasn't right...no matter how much you wanted it to be. That ending it was for them and not you. You wish you could be furious with them for not understanding, for being mad, for being so inconsiderate of feelings you couldn't declare. Your brain screams I hate you to your heart beating I love you. And forever they will niggle at your mind as unfinished business. You will see them across a party, or they'll come up on your facebook news feed with someone else and you want to scream at them for hurting you, why can't they see they're hurting you? Yet how could they? You made it so they wouldn't have to know how they would hurt you, you let them think that you were hurting them when you were protecting them, and yourself. But now you just want to shake them for an obliviousness that was your gift to them. But you can't. You never will. You will think I hate you, feel I love you and say nothing at all.