A/N: the cherry crack is courtesy of Amochan8878.
I hate everything about you.
Did you know?
I hate your abnormal way of sitting.
I hate your horrid posture that makes my back hurt just looking at you.
I hate that you throw cherries at my head when you're bored.
I hate that you get away with it.
I hate that you don't think it's worthwhile to throw one of your precious strawberries at my head.
I hate the way you restrict my freedom with this chain.
This chain that tears away the skin of my wrist till it's numb.
I hate that that restriction makes me smell the ever-lingering scent of strawberries on your breath.
On your skin.
I hate the pallor of your skin, the pallor that's so pale I almost want to drag you outside by force and make you sit in the sun.
Or touch you.
I hate your eyes.
I hate the way they seem to see everything.
I hate that I know you're always watching me, but I can never catch you doing it.
I hate the way I lose myself when you catch my eyes.
When I'm forced to face what I've done.
I hate the way you hold things.
Like you think everything is out to get you.
I hate how gently you touch those things.
Like you think everything could break under your touch.
I hate that you make me feel like you could make me break.
I hate your hair.
I hate that you never find it necessary to brush it.
I hate that somehow it still manages to look like if I ran my hand through it not a single knot would stop me.
I hate that somehow it still manages to look softer than silk.
I hate your cleaning habits.
I hate that I can't recall ever seeing a toothbrush in your hand.
I hate that I can't help thinking that if I didn't find it necessary to take showers, you wouldn't.
I hate the way you dress.
I hate that every single day you wear the same damn thing.
I hate that I think if I looked in your closet I would see an endless row of white shirts and baggy jeans.
I hate your name.
L.
Who the hell names their kid 'L'?
I hate that I know nothing about you.
But you seem to know everything about me.
I hate that I don't understand you.
Yet you read me perfectly.
I hate that for a whole week you had cameras everywhere in my house.
In my room.
Stalker.
I hate that you took away my privacy.
Voyeur.
I hate your sleeping habits.
I hate your lack of sleeping habits.
I hate that you force everyone around you to bend to what you want.
I hate that you make me stay conscious until I'm a zombie, sitting there staring at a computer screen.
I hate that I have to nearly pass out from exhaustion to convince you to let me sleep.
I hate that your staying awake forces me to think.
Think about you.
And I start to think about it...
I hate everything about you.
Do you know?
I love everything about you.
Why?