It seems so easy for you. To gallivant around with random girls in front of me, like you didn’t just steal my heart with the plan to rip it open.
I must be a masochist.
To still want to run into you. To still spend as much time with our mutual friends as possible, in the
chance that I’ll see you. To still want you like I do.
I have an addictive personality (you blamed my Scorpio zodiac), but I also know I’m intelligent. I’m intelligent enough to understand that the way you played me fell perfectly in line with your design, and still I’m left falling for it all over again. Every time our eyes meet, my heart jumps speed just a bit faster.
And I know what you are. I can see you now.
So, please, make me hate you. Make me cringe at the thought of laying eyes on you. Make me burn…not with desire, but with an emotion so far gone that I cannot bear to hear your voice. Make me roll my eyes every time I hear your name. Make me want to leave the room when you enter. Make me hate you with every cell and atom inside of me.
Because I would rather this fire I feel stem from my hate for you.
But you know, if you won’t make me hate you, I can make you hate me. I can make your ears cringe when you hear my name. I can make you run from a room when I enter. I can make you burn with emotions most people try so hard to fight against.
But please don’t make me.
Make me hate you.
Because that would be so much easier than loving you.