I hate it when people say that the shirt you bought looks nice on me.
I hate it when people ask me about you.
I hate it when I think about you sometimes when I’m staring into space.
I hate it that I found the necklace you bought in a place I hid for so long.
I hate that its been a year that I loved you much.
I’m glad I’m over you.
But I’m afraid that I won’t forget you.
I’m done with trying.