Hate Me

When love cracks at the seams, it sounds exactly like this - loud, heartbroken, like an argument in an empty apartment where the walls have already heard everything. Words fly like arrows: “You hate me? Then say it louder.” And the more you repeat it, the clearer it becomes that behind it lies not anger, but longing for what can no longer be returned.

There is something strangely beautiful in this seesaw dynamic - sometimes love, sometimes hate, sometimes the desire to wipe everything clean. The voices intertwine like two people arguing until they are hoarse, but still reaching out to each other. The irony is that hatred sounds more honest than declarations of eternal love. Because in reality, it is just another form of affection.