I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair, I hate the way you drive my car, I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind, I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme. I hate the way you’re always right, I hate it when you lie, I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you’re not around and the fact that you didn’t call. But mostly I hate it that I don’t hate you. Not even a little bit. Not even close. Not even at all.
