I hate myself for not hating him.
I hate this nightmareish turn of events.
I hate my self-pity.
I hate turing over the events again and again in my mind.
I hate the fact that I can't come to terms or comprehend what he did to me.
I hate the way he made me ugly.
I hate the way he's not here to comfort me.
I hate the way I cant comfort him.
I hate the idea of searching for someone else yet...
I cant stand the idea of being alone.
I hate the way I can't relate to anyone I know on a personal level and nobody I know can relate to me.
I hate wearing sunglasses at night.
I hate his smell lingering on my bedsheets even after I've changed them.
I hate my pride being so hurt.
I hate how I' don't know what to do next.
I hate myself for missing him.