It's a small crime, and I got no excuse

Whenever I hear about you, talk to you, see you, a small fraction of me dies. My stomach clenches in discomfort, and a nauseating feeling overcomes me. I always say that hate is a waste of energy, and there are other things to do than to project your hate to someone else.

I don't practice what I preach. You make a liar out of me, and I'm a hypocrite. Some people hate me for it-they hate me for my brutal honesty, but they also hate me for my twists of truths.

But you, no one has ever hated you. As far as I can recall, you're very loved by just about everyone. You're careful not to offend anyone, always willing to oblige. You're this adorable little thing that everyone wants to put in a box, tie a ribbon around, and keep all to themselves. You are too fucking cute.

I just want to know-how do you get away with it?