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Eternity With

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I hate you. I despise you. I loathe every bone in your body. I detest the hair on your head, the freckles on your face, the crooked knees and the pale bony toes. I can’t stand the way you smile all the time, the way you laugh at pathetic things, the way you’re nice to EVERYONE. I hate the way you hardly eat anything, the way you obsess over what everyone thinks of you, how you constantly play with your hair. I don’t like how you twiddle your thumbs when you’re nervous, I don’t like that pigeon-toed walk of yours, and I don’t like the fact that you’re rubbish at Algebra. I’m not jealous of you; I don’t want to be like you. I don’t want to be near you. I abhor you. I can’t stand your existence. I wish you had never been born. When I look at you, every time, I want to throw up. Every muscle in my body freezes when I glance at your face; stare into your eyes. I want to curl up and die at the very sight of you.
I hate you. I despise you. I loathe every bone in your body. Most of all, I hate how you’re the one I will spend an eternity with. You are the one who I see every time I look in a shop window; a still lake on a sunny day; in the bathroom mirror. Every muscle in my body freezes when I catch a glimpse of you; my eternity partner; my reflection.



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