I hate the way he talks

But his voice sends me to laughter

I hate his hair

And yet when he runs his hands

Through it

I get butterflies

I hate the way he is everywhere

But I look for him

High expectations

For myself

Fear of failing

Is something I will never

Escape

Each red mark

On the paper

Another mark

To myself

My confidence

My pride

The papers around me

Don’t you dare call me dramatic

Don’t you dare say I’m overreacting

I am standing by what I said

Your the problem

So yea

I had a choice