I Hate It When ...
I Hate It When ...
"I hate it when you make me laugh,
Even worse when you make me cry."
There are so many things I hate about you. I hate the way you call me 'Mikey' when you're annoyed. It makes me feel like I'm four years old. You always say it just to piss me off. 'Stop being such a bitch, Mikey' or 'Why are you acting so uptight, Mikey? Stop acting like you're four'. You don't say it mean or anything, just annoyed like you're teasing me. I hate it.
I hate it when you kiss me onstage. I hate the way your lips brush against mine roughly for about ten seconds (on average) and then you pull away and just keep singing. I hate how you dismiss it as nothing. I know it's nothing to you. But, damnit, it's something to me! I hate it.
I hate it when you kiss other guys onstage. When you pull someone up from the crowd and then your lips brush theirs and I just have to stare because your lips are tugging at theirs and you even use tongue and you don't do that with me. I guess you're afraid I'll freak out or something. I hate it when you kiss them.
I hate it when you show up at my house drunk and crying because you and Adie had another fight. I hate it when you hug me and beg me to tell you it'll all work out. And I lie. And I hate myself for lying to you. I know it won't work out. But even more I hate myself because I don't want it to work out.
I hate it when you kiss Adie. I hate it when you kiss anybody. God damnit, Billie Joe. It's not fair. You shouldn't have this effect on me. You're just a guy and I'm not gay or bi even. It's just . . . it's you. And it's not fucking fair.
I hate it when you can't sleep and you crawl into my bed and nuzzle into my chest, tucking your head under my chin. I hate it when you talk to me like that, your breath against my skin. I hate it when you're slipping and your head moves just wrong so that your lips are against my skin. I hate your fucking insomnia.
I hate the jokes. I hate it when you catch me looking at you and you tease me about a crush on you. And you don't even know. How could you? I'm better at keeping secrets than you ever were. But I still hate the jokes.
---
I hate her. I hate her for making you cry and making you think you're not worthy of love. I hate her for handing you the divorce papers in front of your kids. I hate her for making you come to my house drunk and crying . . . yet again.
I hate her for destroying you.
---
I hate it when you go through my things, Billie Joe. I hate it when you flip open a random notebook and start reading lyrics I scribbled out in dark when you weren't in my bed. I hate it when you corner me and demand to know why your name is in all the love songs.
I hate it when you scream at me and tell me you're not worth it. When you break down sobbing and shove at me when I try to hold you. When you tell me that I need to move on because no one could love you.
I hate it when I kiss you and you gasp, then return the kiss through tears. I hate it when your arms wrap around my neck and then fall.
I hate myself for this. This wasn't supposed to happen.
And after so long living with this love that wasn't ever meant to be, I hate myself for enjoying it and feeling it.
But as much as I hate myself and the stupid things you do and the way I hate loving your breath against my face . . .
I still love you, Billie Joe.
Even worse when you make me cry."
There are so many things I hate about you. I hate the way you call me 'Mikey' when you're annoyed. It makes me feel like I'm four years old. You always say it just to piss me off. 'Stop being such a bitch, Mikey' or 'Why are you acting so uptight, Mikey? Stop acting like you're four'. You don't say it mean or anything, just annoyed like you're teasing me. I hate it.
I hate it when you kiss me onstage. I hate the way your lips brush against mine roughly for about ten seconds (on average) and then you pull away and just keep singing. I hate how you dismiss it as nothing. I know it's nothing to you. But, damnit, it's something to me! I hate it.
I hate it when you kiss other guys onstage. When you pull someone up from the crowd and then your lips brush theirs and I just have to stare because your lips are tugging at theirs and you even use tongue and you don't do that with me. I guess you're afraid I'll freak out or something. I hate it when you kiss them.
I hate it when you show up at my house drunk and crying because you and Adie had another fight. I hate it when you hug me and beg me to tell you it'll all work out. And I lie. And I hate myself for lying to you. I know it won't work out. But even more I hate myself because I don't want it to work out.
I hate it when you kiss Adie. I hate it when you kiss anybody. God damnit, Billie Joe. It's not fair. You shouldn't have this effect on me. You're just a guy and I'm not gay or bi even. It's just . . . it's you. And it's not fucking fair.
I hate it when you can't sleep and you crawl into my bed and nuzzle into my chest, tucking your head under my chin. I hate it when you talk to me like that, your breath against my skin. I hate it when you're slipping and your head moves just wrong so that your lips are against my skin. I hate your fucking insomnia.
I hate the jokes. I hate it when you catch me looking at you and you tease me about a crush on you. And you don't even know. How could you? I'm better at keeping secrets than you ever were. But I still hate the jokes.
---
I hate her. I hate her for making you cry and making you think you're not worthy of love. I hate her for handing you the divorce papers in front of your kids. I hate her for making you come to my house drunk and crying . . . yet again.
I hate her for destroying you.
---
I hate it when you go through my things, Billie Joe. I hate it when you flip open a random notebook and start reading lyrics I scribbled out in dark when you weren't in my bed. I hate it when you corner me and demand to know why your name is in all the love songs.
I hate it when you scream at me and tell me you're not worth it. When you break down sobbing and shove at me when I try to hold you. When you tell me that I need to move on because no one could love you.
I hate it when I kiss you and you gasp, then return the kiss through tears. I hate it when your arms wrap around my neck and then fall.
I hate myself for this. This wasn't supposed to happen.
And after so long living with this love that wasn't ever meant to be, I hate myself for enjoying it and feeling it.
But as much as I hate myself and the stupid things you do and the way I hate loving your breath against my face . . .
I still love you, Billie Joe.