They weren't supposed to be together.
They weren't supposed to love each other.
She was pretty sure they weren't even supposed to meet.
They had just been a twist of fate, the result of someone wanting a good laugh and deciding to mess with them.
They were supposed to hate each other.
She was supposed to hate him.
By the way she acted, everyone would believe she really did hate him.
She hit him.
Insulted him.
Constantly tried to ruin his life.
She was pretty sure that was not how love worked.
But she also kissed him.
Craved his attention.
Wanted to be with him at any second.
She was pretty sure that was not how hate worked, either.
How could she hate him when the mere thought of him with another girl sent her into a rage fit, made her want to punch a wall, to punch him?
And how could she love him if she couldn't respect his decisions and give him his freedom?
How could she love him if she couldn't let him go, not even for his own good? If she was holding on to him so hard he couldn't break free?
Shouldn't she accept whatever he did, as long as it made him happy?
Shouldn't she act like she cared about him, comfort him when he needed, as a friend would?
Wasn't that what love was?
Shouldn't she despise his very existence, not stand being in the same room as he was?
Wasn't that hate?
And what was how she felt about him, exactly? An unhealthy obsession?
How did he feel about her?
He hated her.
How could he not? She'd given him all the rights to hate him on a golden plate. It's like she wanted him to hate her. And maybe she did. And she wanted him to love her at the same time.
But he liked her.
He was her friend.
He'd helped her so many times even if she hadn't deserved it.
He wanted her to be happy.
She had never stopped one second to think she didn't deserve to be treated that way. She'd just kept pushing. Maybe that was her problem. She took too much and never gave anything back.
She ruined everything she touched.
She burned everything around her.
And she never stopped once to think that, just maybe, she was wrong.
He also told her he loved her.
She didn't know why anyone would ever love her.
She didn't know why he would love her.
But she hadn't stopped to think about it, and she'd said it back.
And she deluded herself in hope that one day they could really be back together.
But they didn't work.
They were a trainwreck.
They pushed each other too hard.
They hurt everyone around them.
Everyone had wanted them to break up.
They were the kind of opposites that did not attract.
They were dysfunctional.
Everyone but them knew that.
They'd pretended they could be together, but they couldn't.
They'd pretended things would change, but they didn't.
They would never get back together and she knew that.
He had all the reasons to not want to get back with her.
She understood.
And at the same time she wanted to tie him to a chair and force him to love her.
Because no one had ever stood by her so long.
But they were wrong.
They were two clashing forces.
They were night and day.
Black and white.
Love and hate.
Calm and storm.
Dysfunctional.