I love you.
You tell her I look like an old woman
and that I was childish when I saw him.
You mock me a lot
from the way I look
to the things I love.
You ridicule me a lot
from the way I love
to the stories I tell you.
We are very close friends
but you always push my buttons down—
very hard
my buttons break,
it felt like it was not me.
I hate you
because how could you say all of that?
I cannot even say those to you.
How could you do this to me?
I cannot even do this to you.
I hate you so much
because how could you make me cry?
I cannot even hurt you.
You are the only one who makes me feel this way.
To anyone,
I can control my madness
but to you,
I burst out.
I curse your name a million times,
you release my horns,
made me think I am evil
to hate you this much.
I hate you very much,
you disgust me,
I cannot ever
forever stand you,
despise,
detest
and loathe you
brutally
with all my heart
because how can you not love me?
After all this time . . .
I hate you very much deeply,
it makes me sick,
it makes me cry.
“I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair.
I hate the way you drive my car, I hate it when you stare.
I hate your big, dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind.
I hate you so much it makes me sick—it even makes me rhyme.
I hate the way you’re always right. I hate it when you lie.
I hate it when you make me laugh—even worse when you make me cry.
I hate it when you’re not around. And the fact that you didn't call.
But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you—not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.”
“How do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways.” (Allusion to Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese, No. LXIII: “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.”)
“I burn, I pine, I perish!” (quote from William Shakespeare, The Taming of the Shrew, Act I, Scene I.)
“Romeo, Oh Romeo, Get Out Of My Face.”
“They're spitefully romantic.”
— 10 Things I Hate About You (1999)
