It's not hate, it's

the absence of love.

I don't hate you, I just can't look at you.
And I regard everything you do or say with suspicion.

Mistrust YOU created.
Sorry.

You appear happy. You behave like someone, if even forcibly, in love.

I don't believe you? Not because I don't want to.

I'm sure it isn't all bullshit, but I don't know where to separate.
Maybe I never did.

I also once trusted you NOT to bullshit me. Simpler times.

Am I free yet?

I don't want to speak too soon because these things have tended to change, week by week, for too long now. And finding out that this is all falsehood next week will really depress me.

But maybe that's part of the grander construct.

Maybe it's that I see no more reason to love him.

Did I misconstrue empathy for love?

Because now that there's no empathy, no reason for worry, or perhaps a feeling that I haven't the right to empathize or worry, mill over his tragedy, being that there is no real place in his life for me...

I don't feel anything!

Maybe a little queasy.
But it's probably just that I drank too much last night.
By the way, are you kidding me, not bothering to say goodbye?