I hate that I notice his activity on social networking sites.  Deep emotion can move you to behave unlike yourself: I pay more attention to the website he used to seldom use.  I hate that I notice the attention he stopped giving me being is being bestowed upon another woman.  I remember when he was a thoughtful and sensitive guy.  I remember when we revolved around each other.  I hate that I had a hunch that his attention would one day be directed to her.  I remember when I caught her staring at him.  We were high.  I was outraged.  Her eyes were flighty when I caught her.  I hate that he is heartless.  ”I am cursed and blessed with the ability to not miss people,” he said.  I hate that my heart is on my sleeve.  I bought him roses before goodbye was solidified.  I almost threw them away, because I knew how my day would end.  I hate that there is no facade to this pain.  I wilted as the roses were merely a brave act, rather an opening to a now closed door.  I hate that he could never talk to me.  That I put so much effort into someone that didn’t have the decency to communicate with me, rather simply bottling up and exploding into this monster I grew to despise.  I hate how this has put stones in my throat.  I hate how I miss him.  I hate how I love him.  I hate how he doesn’t deserve it at all.