I Hate it

I hate it that whenever I see a glorious picture, I wonder what you think of it and how you would see it. I hate it that when I read something funny, it reminds me of how you made me laugh. I hate it that whenever I hear this song, you pop up on my mind, like some infomercial I could not avoid. I hate it that I learned to appreciate God, more now, than I appreciate being Catholic or learning about Islam. I see streaks of white hair and I think of you. I hate that. I see a photographer in action, and think of you and I hate that. I hate it that I compare every guy I meet to you, and it's unfair that I can't find them attractive at all. I hate how a very short message from you could manage to turn my life upside down. I really hate it.

I'm dropping our conversations in the trash can. I'm taking your picture off my frames, your picture cards off my wall. I'm deleting your name in my messenger list.

But I'm keeping your email, your book and your camera. Soon you'll be a memory as you should have been for the longest time.

I'm through hating. I'm in pursuit of happiness.

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