For Alex, you had only been a bet he made with his friends at the beginning of the year, and you had the bad luck to find out on your birthday, when you broke up. From that day on, you were the constant ridicule of him and his friends. What hurt you the most was that all the beautiful moments you had had with him had meant nothing to him.

The end of the school year was near, so your teacher asked that each of you write a poem, with a free theme. When he said your name, you sighed and walked out to the board, your heart pounding. You had written a poem about Alex. You sighed, noticing the mocking glances between Alex and his friends, and started reading.

"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, that it makes me sick, and 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"