i hate the feeling of emptiness, of a piece of void that i cannot fill.

i hate not being able to talk to you when something juicy comes up. mediocre or mundane, i can tell you everything. i never bore you with my tales even if it was a story you’ve heard a lot of times before.

i hate not seeing your face light up by just the simple things. or how it twitches, revealing the dimples i never had.

i hate it when i just curl up and hug myself to ease the pain.

i hate being alone instead of with you. of not hearing your voice or your laugh.

i say i hate you to erase the emotions i’m venting up.

but truth be told,
i don’t hate you, i just hate missing you.