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.
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