Animals by Frank O’Hara

I don't hate the outside world. I really don't. There are things in the world that I hate, but I don't hate the world. I hate that you are not in my world and I am not in your world. I hate that the happiest of moments in my world are not as good as they could be with you.

I hate that I am missing out on whatever is going on in your world whether it be Happy, Sad, Good, or Bad. I hate that you might actually want me in your world again, but not in the way I want to be. And I hate that I can't change how I feel or that I can't even imagine ever feeling differently.

I hate that I ever held back, even a little. And I really hate where I held back a lot.

I hate that I ran out of chances. Ran out time.

I hate that I gave in so easily.

I hate writing this knowing you will never read it.

I don't hate you. I love that I don't hate you. I love that I haven't stopped loving you. I don't want to know what not loving you anymore feels like.

I love myself and so I love you. If I didn't love myself it would be so much easier to move on, so much easier to stop loving you. It hurts only because there is love, and it will only truly stop hurting because of love.

Hate is just an interlude from love.

Love always comes back. Love is what wins out. Love is why I am still here.