I suppose I did really, actually I probably never stopped thinking about what you and everyone thought. Does it matter?
Today I walked up that hill; I've walked up it a thousand times or more. All the way up I played in my mind the things we said - the interplay that led to things being the way they ended up - and that was 6 years ago and I still know the words and where we were and how we sat and how I could not bare to see or hear you.
And, something inside me quite deep still hates you but in keeping that hate warm (it just won't shut up asking to be brought out and stretched) I just hate myself. And for that I hate you - but you wouldn't give a fuck about that - and all along I'm just hating myself.
So take your fucking parsnips, butter up, and die when I tell you that from now on when I think of you I'm just going to try to remember your name and let that be that (but.... pssssst..... fucking hate you....).
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