Do I really hate you?
That's the first question that always springs up in my brain. Its one of those questions that never fails to pop up in my mind. I hate it, its stupid. I shouldn't be thinking about anyone as despicable as you. You shouldn't enter my thoughts so easily by day and plague my dreams by night. I know I hate you. I can feel it. I feel the rage, anger and intense hatred coursing through my very veins and yet…
I simply cannot resist you.
Every time I see you, I feel my heart start to beat just a little faster. My palms get sweaty so I can barely hold whatever heavy object might happen to be around. I hate this feeling. I want to kill you. I want you to die. And yet, I still can't bring myself to take your life, ripping it away from your small, pale body.
How can a flea like you do something to impact me so much?! I don't understand. Its like you have infected me with some bug and the symptoms are you you you.
Your mischievous smirk, your smooth pale skin, your obnoxious laughter and your troublesome voice. Every move you make is always meant to antagonize me but somehow I just can't get enough of you.
I feel so very disgusted for thinking about you like this. I just can't help but notice that its all true. Every bit of it, and I feel so ashamed. Ashamed for falling for my most hated rival, enemy and punching bag.
What I ever saw in a flea like you, I don't even know. I don't think everything has been entirely my fault. You are the one to blame. The very person that holds the very center of my attention, the one that captivates me the longest. The one who can bend me around your little finger.
I hate you, I hate myself, I hate everyone. Especially you. If you had never came into my life, maybe I wouldn't be as messed up as I am right now. I wouldn't be questioning everything I did or had done in the past. I wouldn't be roaming the streets with a bent up stop sign clenched tightly in my two strong hands, patrolling Ikebukuro and secretly hoping to see you prancing through the streets just so that I could pummel you into the dirt.
I feel wrong for thinking like this. I am barely able to contain my hands at my sides, trembling with anger and possibly slight fear when I see you in the far distance.
I am no longer able to hold myself.
I lunge at you, pinning you against the nearest wall that I could find. My hands shaking in silent rage as they keep your arms over your head. I look into your crimson red eyes and I see that they are laughing at me.
I'll teach you to stop taunting me with your sharp tongue and sarcastic red irises.
I press my slightly chapped lips against your soft pink ones, catching your tongue in a passionate embrace as your legs slowly start to wrap around my waist and I pull you closer against my chest.
As the soft, cinnamon flavored kisses turned into something more real, the true reason for our meeting finally began to dawn on me.
This whole time, you were my lifeline. My savior. My reason for living. I had been hating you as an excuse. A reason to divert my mind from the true cause of my pain and suffering and had been piling them up on you.
And it only took the sweet breathless kisses we exchanged in that alleyway to realize it.