"I hate the way you talk to me,
and the way you cut your hair
I hate the way you drive my car,
I hate it when you stare.
I hate your big dumb combat boats,
and the way you read my mind.
I hate you so much, that it makes me sick,
And even makes me rhyme.
I hate the way you’re always right.
I hate it when you lie.
I hate it when you make me laugh,
even worse when you make me cry.
I hate it when you not around,
and the fact that you didn’t call…
But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you,
Not even close,
Not even a little bit,
Not even at all.”
*me coming down stairs*
mom: now that you’re awake, can you clean th-
"I think it was a Thursday, in Summer,
on the shores of a lake lacking fish
that I counted the breaths between your lips
and thought maybe I could learn to die
happy. I wanted to count the freckles
on your face instead of swim in the galaxies reflecting
down on silver surfaces; like glass waiting to break
we were on the verge of destruction and infinite
in the possibility love. I wanted
to sweat out all the times I tried to ignore forever.
I think it was a Thursday, or Tuesday, or Monday,
or Sunday, that I decided to stop thinking;
it was definitely summer when you taught me
how to live in silence and enjoy the noise
before the lights above us all die."
It’s so sad that some of the loveliest and kindest people dislike themselves a lot