Every time we lie awake
After every hit we take
Every feeling that I get
But I haven't missed you yet
Every roommate kept awake
By every sigh and scream we make
All the feelings that I get
But I still don't miss you yet
Only when I stop to think about it....
I hate everything about you
Why do I love you?
I hate everything about you
Why do I love you?
Every time we lie awake
After every hit we take
Every feeling that I get
But I haven't missed you yet
Only when I stop to think about it....
I hate everything about you
Why do I love you?
I hate everything about you
Why do I love you?
Only when I stop to think about you....
I know
Only when you stop to think about me....
Do you know?
I hate everything about you
Why do I love you?
You hate everything about me
Why do you love me?
I hate, you hate
I hate, you hate
I hate, you love me
I hate everything about you,
Why do I love you?
I hate him. I look at him and I see everything that is wrong with the world. Everything I have fought against for my entire life. And then I look at him again, and I see a man. A man whose main fault is that he wants to learn, to know, and isn't that the most human trait you can think of? I look away but I cannot stand it. He would never notice anyway. Actually, that's wrong. He notices everything. But he would never care. It is simply another piece of information to be filed away for future reference. And this wouldn't even warrant a line in his books. His books. He loves his books more than anything. I wonder what he would have been like on old earth. It is told that they had countless stores of information on tiny little chips. I never quite figured out what they meant with that, but I'm sure Tarrant understands it. He could have had any information available to him, and then the resources to do what ever he wanted with it. It must drive him crazy to know that he is stuck in such a place that it is impossible. And how can one not respect such a lust for knowledge. Again, the one thing that truly defines human beings, the one thing most embodied by him. And then I remember that he gave up his humanity to become what he is. Isn't that irony? He gave up his humanity in his quest to follow the most human of ideals? He is a monster. It is obvious to anyone that this is true. Ask Tarrant himself even for a straight answer.
I hate him. I look at him and see everything that is wrong with the world. Everything I have fought against for my entire life. You could show him a book with the secret to life in it and he would think it interesting and move on. And then I see how natural it is for him. How he learns what he needs. What is required to survive, and to be happy, and that that is all one really needs. But how can he not realise that to advance one must learn? How can there be no desire to learn? How can I desire him so much despite it?
I hate him. So why am I longing after him, hoping that he will still want me tonight. I hate him for having such contempt for me and the rest of the human race. But I long for his approval like nothing else. If he told me to go away I could not bear it. It would break me to pieces and I know he knows that.
I hate him. So why am I longing after him, hoping that he will still want me tonight. Hoping that he won't realise that I don't deserve him. It would break him if I stopped wanting him, but he doesn't realise that it wreck me as well. When he finally comes to his senses and sees what I am, he'll leave, and I'll probably give up. For some reason I cannot bring myself to regard him as everyone else I see. Any other person I will just as quickly love and leave to die. I've tried it since admitting my feelings for him to myself. I knew for quite a while that I was infatuated before I found out he returned the feelings. At first I tried to get him out of my head with other women and men, but it didn't work, and it still doesn't work. I tried again last week even, to rid myself of this ridiculous obsession. 1000 years ago I killed my own wife for heaven's sake! But I can't part myself from him. If I killed him (and I have no doubt I could bring myself to do it if I thought it would help) I know that it would probably kill me. Not in the literal sense, I doubt my body to be weak enough to respond that strongly to emotion. However I believe what fragile little is left of my soul would die, and I have seen what happens to bodies left without a soul inside.
I hate him. So why am I fucking him? Why am I bringing myself to do something that a mere year ago, I would have been disgusted with? Why can I not stop? Even when I give myself a million reasons, not the least of which that he is probably using me for something, I can't stop wanting him. I wonder if it's all some grand scheme he has going; however, sometimes I look at him and I see confusion in his eyes—as if he doesn't know why he's doing this either. And then it's gone as soon as I blink, as soon as I stop looking, back to the mountain strong mask.
I hate him. So why am I fucking him? Why have I kept him around for so long? Maybe it's because he's the first person to become close to me in so many, many years. There have been so many women before him and a share of men, but I want to return to him and him alone. Why can't I let him go? Disregard him and leave him bleeding in a ditch. There's nothing extraordinary about our nights together. He is a reasonably skilled lover, but nothing to write home about... although, that's not something you would write home about anyway. But when I look at him, and see that he doesn't see me as everyone else does, he doesn't see me as the horribly complex, yet utterly simple: evil, prophet, and I don't want him to leave.
I hate him. So why do I love him?
I hate him. So why do I love him?