Loving You Hating You Novels & Stories

"I was going to mark you against your will. Was going to take your choice away. Was going to become exactly what I promised I'd never be. How do you not hate me?" "I do hate you. Part of me hates you so much I can barely breathe around you." The honesty hurts but it's necessary. "But part of me also loves you. Misses you. Needs you. And I don't know how to reconcile those parts. Don't know how to be with you when I'm terrified you'll lose control again. Don't know how to trust you when you proved my trust was misplaced."

I froze on the spot. She lets go and stared at me. I stared back, my mind was still processing what just happened. After a while, I looked down at the ground and let my hands form into ball of fists. "What are you doing to me Daniella? One minute you were angry with me and then now you do this. You make me hate you. And yet you do things that makes me feel weird that I can't even think straight anymore. What is into you? I want to hate you" I say. And when I looked up I saw that infamous smirk of her. That mischievous smirk.

song - i hate you I love you Feeling used but I'm still missing you And I can't see the end of this Just wanna feel your kiss against my lips And now all this time is passing by But I still can't seem to tell you why It hurts me every time I see you Realize how much I need you I hate you, I love you I hate that I love you Don't want to but I can't put Nobody else above you I hate you, I love you

The quiet of a woman who had run out of the specific instruments she usually reached for and was sitting without them and did not entirely know what to do with her hands. "I love you," I said. She looked at me. "I will always love you," I said. "That is not something you can take from me by doing what you did. It is not conditional on your behavior and it never has been and it never will be. You are my sister and I love you and that is simply true." She opened her mouth. "But," I said. She closed it.

Not even if the damn world was burning to ash around us. His breath hitched, and then he said it—words that broke something in me even as they kept me tethered to him. “I hate you. I hate you so fucking much it hurts. But I also love you so much that I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to—” I didn’t let him finish. I didn’t need buts. I slammed my lips onto his, cutting off the words before they could slip out of his lips. All I needed to know was that he still loved me. That in the middle of all the hate and pain, there was love strong enough to hold him here with me.

“I have fallen in-love with you, Michael Black. That is the truth, and you shouldn’t doubt it for one second.” “I’m confused,” he admits, “how can you love me when you don’t truly know me… my darkness. There are things I haven’t told you, things that might make you hate me.” My scoff is breathy. “Hate is a strong word, Michael.” “And so is love.”

he says, leaving me speechless. “I just don’t get why we have to go through all this. You know, James, deep down, I know I’ll end up falling for that girl, but I can’t. I just can’t stand him. I seriously hate him.” Tears were welling up as I spoke. It’s just the way it is, and that’s not changing. “He told me he loves you.” James asks “What?” I replied, just as confused.

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“Aw, dad, I understand Julian had bruised your ego so greatly after sleeping with the love of your life and getting your daughter pregnant." Mr. Parker bristled in anger. “SANDRA!" She smirked. “Isn't it funny. I'm enjoying my hatred so much more than I ever enjoyed love. Love is temperamental. Tiring. It makes demands. Love uses you, changes its mind. But hatred, now, that's something you can use. Sculpt. Wield. It's hard, or soft, however you need it. Love humiliates you, but hatred... hatred cradles you.”

Actually afraid, in a way I’d never seen on his face before, and some stupid part of me — the part that had loved him quietly for six years without asking for anything back — felt something warm move through the cold. Maybe, I thought. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is the moment. I know. I know how that sounds. I was dying on a stone floor and I was still doing it — still looking for proof that I meant something to him, still hoping the fear on his face was about me specifically and not just the chaos of the moment. I couldn’t help it. Loving him had become the same as breathing a long time ago. I didn’t know how to stop even when I was running out of air.