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I hate you.

Sitting in front of you in English class was the worst hour and a half of my day. It made my stomach squeeze and my teeth grind. I hate the way you smile and the way you laugh when you read fiction books.

Those stupid Converse you can never keep tied.

I hate your alt look, black nails, and grey-blue eyes.

We speak about the future. about college and plans for freedom. to get out of our small hometown and be something more, to be famous or rich, or have our names known everywhere. We want to make the world better, to make a big change. You speak about justice, liberty, and I know that one day you'll leave.

I hate that you'll leave.

I hate how when you open your mouth, your annoying voice speaks deep truths. I hate how you see the reasons behind reasons, how you see for what things truly are. And I hate how you see and think deeper than me. I tell myself it's jealousy.

We speak of the injustice of our system, the failure to protect. The battle of the mind, the voice, and the heart in man's chest. I hate how everything you say is the truth. Ones that I didn't even think to know until you.

I hate how when people look at you, they smile and laugh. I hate how I know that I can never be like that. Wild and free. Unafraid and kind. Wanting then doing, not just wishing. I hate that you are everything that I want to be.

I am not smart.

Not like you.

I'm not kind or unafraid,

wild, or free.

I'm not even a pretty face.

I stare back at you now, through the corner of my eye.

That crooked smile as you write with no eraser in sight. And I stare at my paper, ripped and torn and smudged from hiding so many mistakes. The end of my pencil is now just a nub.

I would offer my heart, but to do so would break it at best,

and ensnare yours at worst.

I hate seeing you love. So unbridled and untamed. I hate how you have no walls or nets to catch when you fall. I can see it now. If you'd ever fall, you'd fall hard, tumbling, spiraling, deep into waves and ocean foam

Would you stay for me?

I hate the part of me that asks almost as much as I hate knowing you actually might.

An unfair question, but one I think often. Stay in this small town cage with someone who isn't sure of anything, not her path or future, or what she wants. No trust-- in herself, her world, or her own hands. Would you love her back anyway? With that love that's so pure, it burns us both. I'd gladly burn if I were in your arms, and pretend the world's fair and just.

But my tears are wet, and they come steadily. If only I knew that you, when you held me, wouldn't end up just smoke.

And if I were lucky, you'd say that it's okay. That I am your home, that someone will set the world ablaze. Just not you and not today. That I am your world, and there's no need to go. Not with me here. You'd lose the flint, the matches, and gasoline. You'd throw them deep into the sea and turn back to me.

The same lips that would kiss you would blow out your spark. The same hands that would hold you would hold you down. The same eyes that filled with adornment would fill with sorrow when you'd dare to want more.

I won't be the bridle on a horse or water to a flame. I won't be the anchor, the ropes, nor the chain.

I only have enough love for one heart, and it belongs to yours.

One day you'll find her. Someday, you'll lock eyes with someone else, and your hearts will know. She will want more and to see every star, to love and explore, and change everything.

You'll burn this world down together to create something better, something new, and something fresh. Sprouts growing from ash. I would be lucky to suffocate in the fumes and feel the heat eat my skin as I watched you smile, that crooked smile. Fulfilled, satisfied, and...happy.

I look at you now, sitting behind me. We are supposed to be writing a personal essay on what it truly means to give someone your heart.

I know for certainty, looking at you, what it means to me.

It means to sometimes smother it so they don't know it was ever theirs from the start.

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

I'll convince us both.

I have to.

because if I didn't hate you, I'd love you.

And if I truly loved you, I wouldn't love you at all.