I Hate It

I hate how my feet hung off your bed, digging into the heels.
I hate how your phone was more important to you than me.
I hate how your blonde hair used to take an hour to get ready.
I hate how you were always late.
I hate how you cancel plans we had for months.
I hate how I had to call you first, always first.
I hate how you were always a hypocrite.
I hate how you laughed at stupid jokes but not the good ones.
I hate how you smoked.
I hate how you invited people over you didn’t know.
I hate how you treated your brother.
I hate how you treated your mom.
I hate how you smiled.
I hate how you got jealous.
I hate how you bitched about your perfect life.
I hate how you thought you were good for me.
I hate your insecurities.
I hate your expensive clothes.
I hate your three different houses.
I hate your stupid big feet.
I hate your voice after drugs.
I hate sneaking out with you.
I hate that noise you make when you eat.
I hate you sometimes,
But I don’t blame you for being you.
I know you can’t help it.
I blame me for thinking you were the best I could do,
because I think sometimes I hate me, too.