I hate that I can't think about you without remembering what we were, without being hurt, without feeling wonderfully hopeful and then horribly hurt, without imagining that we're still together, without feeling your hand in mine, without wishing we could go back, without wanting to cry at what would have made me laugh or smile before, without wondering what went wrong, without overanalyzing everything, without wishing I could take it all back, without wondering if it was all a lie.
I hate that our friendship is gone. And I hate that you're not the only one to blame.
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