Only it's not my liver.

I'm bewildered, to tell you the truth. How I got to this point, I really have no idea. It's all just... a blur, really. A whirl of colours and conversations and playing the fool, staying away. Since when are you able to see through my flimsy disguise, and who the hell are you to be in my head? What the hell gives you the right to get under my skin, make me think about you almost constantly? I don't know, but obviously something does. And you don't even fucking realize it, do you? Just how much I think about you, how much I care.

I'll tell you almost everything I feel, and I'm not an open person when it comes to my feelings. You know that as well as I do. I suppose I shouldn't expect that same respect and trust in return, but somehow, that's how my brain computes it. I mean, yes, I'm one of the few you can trust. I know that, and that you've entrusted me with a few secrets and more than a few rants.

Do you know how painful it is to me to hear you talk about that last signifigant other? How things went so well until they went and left you? How you care too much about them? And how badly they've treated you, yet you still care? It's infuriating that you can't see it. Everytime you mention that other person, I feel my hearstrings tugging, threatening to break.

You know what pains me even more? When you suggest that I should date someone else. Really, it breaks me. Especially since it's someone that I have no attraction to, and you know that damn well. Do you do it just to torture me, to play with my mind, to get me off track? It doesn't work, you know. It just breaks more of the few peices of my heart I have left.

God, why do I do this to myself? I don't know, really. I have no answer. The only answer that I have for you is that I hate you. I hate you for running through my mind constantly, for making me miss you when we've only just spoken, for not having the courage to up and up say anything straight out that you feel. I hate it when I think about you, because it only makes me miss you more. This isn't supposed to be the way, damnit. I'm supposed to think about other things, music, movies, friends. I'm supposed to be happy, not haunted by you. I am supposed to be my own person, think about things that I want, and not let my heart get in the way of this.

Why the hell is it, that, when I'm around you, it's the only time I feel... happy? Whole? The only time I feel like I can laugh without it being oh-so-hollow?

You know, I really don't have the time to waste on you anymore. I know there is a fine line between a friend and someone you truly love, and I know which side of the line you fall on in my heart. But I have no idea where I am in yours. I know you care, your concern when I hurt myself or something. But I don't know if that's just friendship or something else. I feel like I'm going crazy, tormenting myself. I feel like Prometheus, having my heart ripped out every day, only to have it grow back overnight, while I dream. And of course, you haunt there too. Everywhere.

Maybe I'm being melodramatic, but I'm just saying how I feel. God, I hate you. I hate everything about you. That cute little way you work your mouth into a little smirk while playing video games, your biting sarcasm, your dirty mind. It all sticks with me, you know, like little needle-stings.

I didn't even see this coming, trust me. It just... happened. I mean, we were friends, right? Friends. I suppose that's all you see, or that's all you'll let me know we are. You are my eagle, and I... I am your Prometheus. But, unlike Prometheus, I doubt I can take this, every day for the rest of eternity.

One of these days, I'm going to cave, and I won't be able to blame you, though I hate you. I hate you more than life itself.

I hate, hate, hate, hate you. I hate you because I love you, damnit, and I can't do a fucking thing about it, can't stop my heart from being ripped out.

Just like Prometheus.