FicWad

Not really into 'frearard' at all. Um, but since it's written by from a womans point of view, it sound a bit well - more gay. (Trust me, I ain't no homophobe). Plus I think it's more cuter if it's two guys. Please review. It took a great deal for me to write this.


Gerard.

I hate you.

My gut clinches when I think about you, the corniness of it all. I hate when you hug me, I hate when you touch me, I hate when I lay on you. I hate when we kiss. I hate when you pull me into a hug and rest your head on my shoulder as I do to you too. I hate when I laugh along with your jokes, not from politeness but from humour. I hate when you hold my hand and kiss my neck, I hate when you whisper into my ear and smell my hair.
I hate when you say you miss me and actually mean it. I hate how I make your days better and how you wait all week to see me. I hate how you will defend me if anyone says anything bad about me or makes a cruel joke, I hate how you’re always there. I hate how you’re every girls dream.
I hate how I hate you.

I feel sick when I think of being with you. I don’t know why. You couldn’t possibly be anything but nearly perfect. I say that because I don’t believe in anything nor anyone being perfect. In this short time you’ve made me feel suffocated, used slightly. Though you’re not using me.

I hate how my friends think I’m so ‘evil’ and how I’m so cruel to you. I hate how I speak so badly of you, but when I think of it, you’re not bad at all. I hate how I’m always the culprit and how you’re always the victim. I hate how I think you not the nicest looking person in the world, I hate how I say it all like you don’t deserve me. When it’s most probably the other way around. And you’re not bad looking at all. I hate how I complain all the time about you when you’re probably talking to your friends about how amazing I am.
I hate how you know nothing of this.

I turn away when the topic of you comes up at conversation. I don’t want to talk about you. I don’t want to see you. But yet you count down the days until we meet again. I wished for this and now I hate what I’ve got. They’re not being funny when they say ‘be careful what you wish for’. I wish I was careful.

I hate how you notice everything about me, but I hardly care about anything you do. I hate how I tell you one thing, without meaning it and you’ll do it, or be there - when I’m just thinking “Nah, he won’t be there”. I hate how you care so much. I hate when I try to fight you out of my mind, but you’ll always be there, lurking, like a sick disease.

I sometimes wonder if everything you do and are is genuine. Maybe you’re just trying to be everything a boyfriend should be. Sometimes it feels like you can’t be yourself around me. But we’re so alike, that’s what worries me, they say ‘opposites attract’ but we’re hardly opposite. I hate how I feel as if you’ll fuck the next hot person willing. I guess that’s why I feel so abused. But I know, well I think, that that isn’t true. That you truly like me. Maybe even love me.

But I don’t believe in love. I think it’s stupid. I hate it to say the least. I hate how I fear the day when you’ll look directly into my eyes and say “I love you” - if it ever comes. I hate how I’ll tremble and run for the hills. I hate how I won’t open up and be myself. I hate how I’m not a cuddly person and want to hit you when you touch me. But it isn’t that bad. I love when we cuddle, I love hugs and the like. I hate how that doesn’t make sense when I said previously I hate it, I know, I know I’m a hypocrite. I hate that I’m a hypocrite.
I hate how I’m most probably so lucky and people would die for a ‘relationship’ like this. I hate how I’m so un-committed.

I say I hate affection, but do I? I think you know I don’t. I think I know I don’t. But can’t be completely sure. I hate how I confuse myself. I hate words like ‘cuddle’ etc. They make me feel childish and weird. But there never seems to be another word coming to mind when I think of you and what we do.
I’m scared of giving in and depending on another person, I’ve always been independent. I hate being wanted. It scares me to the bone.
I can’t seem to ever get you out of my mind, that’s the sick thing.

Most of all, I hate how I love you but won’t admit it, won’t actually think of that sick twisted thing called love.

I love you.