I broke down: 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 it, 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 that 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.
On the one hand I think of a person I know, regardless of him first. On the other hand, I think of someone I don’t know.
Back then, back then, Heath smiled brightly with a stupid hairstyle in the movie, and fell in love with a maverick girl at a young age, and then it was the plot of happily ever after.
It's ironic.
When I saw the news in the newspaper, I was not too surprised and didn't say anything.
Later, when I revisited Brokeback Mountain, I cried when I saw the sentence I wish I knew how to quit you. There was nothing I could do.
In any case, he is dead.
I hope everything is well for him, and I hope Joseph will survive.
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