How I really feel.

I hate that you left me this goddamn letter sitting on my passenger seat…on our last night together.

I hate that it nearly moved me to tears.

I hate how it inspired me to write this post.

I hate how full of emotion I am right now.

I hate how I was the exception.  The one that stood out.  The one who challenged you, and caught you.  Frankly, neither of us got what we thought we would.

I hate how you baked me apple pies and cinnamon bread and won my whole office over.

I hate how you always wear skirts and dresses because you know I like them.

I hate the way your eyes light up when we jump in that car.

I hate that you tell me I don’t live in reality.

I hate that you were so easy-going, and so unwilling to get wrapped up in drama and jealousy.

I hate that you encourage me to reach for the stars but also keep me on my feet on Earth when it needs to be said.

I hate that you drew me in enough that I wanted to bring flowers to you through your drive-thru on your last day of work.

I hate that you’re able to recount all of the things I told you we would never discuss again.

I hate that you actually seemed to appreciate the nice things I did, and paid them in kind.

I hate that I was so excited to give you those birthday presents.

I hate that you see past my somewhat narcissistic and jaded outlook and call me a sweet guy.

I hate that you talk about a possible future between us…

I really, really hate that you gave me this letter.

I hate that I hate so much.  I want to open up and share all, but just can’t.  You’d understand what I really mean by this entire post.  I guess I’m trying to say is I’m saddened that I am so guarded.  That I am not willing to open up my heart just yet.

Most of all, I hate that it just wasn’t the right timing for us.

I’ll miss you, LR.

3 responses to “How I really feel.

  1. Pingback: Balancing getting ass with being an ass (Part 2/2). | This blog will get me in trouble.·

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