i see you without knowing that i was already slipping my shivering hands inside that little, dark closet of yours hoping to see your nakedness, wishing to touch your warmness. i have to do this without you knowing it. without you knowing that it was my frigid hands that's touching your frailty. i've learned that knowledge doesn't always bring good. it makes the other person deadly conscious which in the end put the 'agressor' in the wrong footing. but you know what? you're so good in hiding things that you could fool anyone but me.
i hate myself for loving the things that you hate because slowly, it has becoming a short, pathetic habbit of mine. i know you don't like conventional things...but will you see me less if i do? will you look down on me because i like something that you terribly despised? i like the feeling of spiting you sometimes...because although you look down on me, it will be my step towards being different from YOU and all the things that you like. you should not expect me to be exactly like you, right? i hope so...because I'M DIFFERENT FROM YOU!
you make me crazy sometimes. you make me things which I know is not the real me. you bring the worst in me...you bring me so much pain i'm beginning to love you more. damn.
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