Because deep down I knew that every time I pushed her, every time I hurt her, each time she snapped at me and got back up, she’d been chipping away at my resolve a little more, breaking down my walls a little more. And even though I knew that all the things I’d done to her had only pushed her away from me, they’d each drawn me in a little closer every time. I’d pushed her for her hatred because a moment of her scorn meant more to me than what it cost. I took her attention whatever way I could get it because all the time it was on me it lit me up and made me burn. And I wanted to burn with her
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