I can't hate you

There are times I deeply wish I’d never met you. Then I think that it wouldn’t be my life, or my world, without you in it. Late at night, I’m sitting here alone in total silence with your words stuck in my head — the words I can’t seem to escape from for even one second.

And as it becomes clearer that I can’t escape from you, another wish comes into my head. I wish we’d had an argument so big, so explosive, so messed up… so that we can both be angry, completely and utterly enraged, at each other. This way, we would at least know why we are upset or sad in the first place. We’d also know why we are away from each other and maybe, just maybe be slightly okay with it.

But who am I kidding? One way or another, we’ll find a way to make up. Scratch that; that doesn’t work either.

So tell me, what am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do when I can’t be angry at you for the rest of my life? Even if I hate you for a couple of seconds, I end up loving you even more than I did before. And remember, I am supposed to hate you big time. I’m trying (yes trying) to come up with reasons to hate you—and trust me there are so many. More reasons emerge across the surface of my consciousness, but each and every time I arrive at the same conclusion.

The reasons I hate you, are the same reasons that I love you. Endlessly.

And now, you can’t imagine how pissed off I am. So pissed off, that if you were in front of me I’d knock your head against the wall. Needless to say that after this, I’d pick the pieces of it up one by one. Of course. I never had a single doubt in my mind about this.

Do me a favor. After I smack your head against the wall, tell me what to do. Do a magic spell, something that will either make me hate you for real, or make me forget.

But the thing is… I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to forget anything; once I do, I’ll lose a piece of myself. And if I hate you, I know for sure that I won’t like that, I won’t tolerate it.

Okay then, do me another favor. Come here, and annoy me for the rest of my life. Period, case closed, end of story. Piss me off big time, make me come up with endless murder plots and scenarios in my head — only to make me laugh later with your stupid jokes and comebacks. I’ll take this, over trying (so much!) to hate you. An endless and fruitless effort, only to find out in the end how much I love you. I’ll take that over the decisions you’ve made for both of us.

I’d rather be mad at you, want to punch you in the face, yet have you near me when that happens. Because I’d rather fight with you and tell you that I adore you at the end. The other option is to be mad at you by myself and then miss you in waves. And I have to fight with them instead, only to find myself drowning in the end, each and every time. And I don’t want that, I don’t choose this option anymore.

Do me this favor instead—nothing else will work.
Nothing else I’m doing now works either.

I wish I had more words to describe this but unfortunately, I don’t. So I’ll just say …
I hate you.

But then I love you even more than I did before.

Screw this—I don’t you hate at all.
I never could.