My heart doesn't have time, room, or itself to feel hate. But when something happens and it hurts me. . .especially when it happens more than once and then it SHATTERS me. . .I start feeling the word creep up on me. I may dislike a few people, but hate is a very rare thing for me and when I feel it, I despise it.
I never knew there were such big jerks out there in this world who are around my age. Maybe that's too much of an innocent thought but it's true, especially when one or two of the jerks were your friends. It hurts so much in the beginning. Then it forms into a feeling of every time they are seen, the heart grimaces.
I'll talk immature-wise. Every time I see the jerk at school, I want to raise the textbook in my hand and throw it at his head. My teeth grind from seeing him, I want to punch someone when I hear his name, I want to kick him down and then walk away.
I can't stand hearing his voice and hearing or seeing his name. I can't even stand a two-second glance of him.
I have my reasons for this hate. I have my side of the story that no one knows about. I never told anyone the complete story and never will no matter how much someone asks unless there's someone out there one day who I get very close to and doesn't know him.
He's one of the small reasons why I want to get out of high school. I hate the thought and feeling of how he can show up any minute and I'll want to chuck something at his face.
This is one of the most immature posts out of my whole blog but there's no other way to get this out there.
"Those who hate most fervently must have once loved deeply; those who want to deny the world must have once embraced what they now set on fire."
--Kurt Tucholsky
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