First off, I would like to say how much I hate labels. I hate labels and people who would judge me for shopping at Dollarama. I tear at them (the people, that is) as I feebly scratch the reluctant sticker and get my nails all gunky. I also hate when you boil water and forget about it and have to drink cold tea. I hate when you actually take the time to make a salad but then the dressing leaks all over your bag. I hate how I have the worst teachers for the subjects I love, and the best ones for those I hate. I hate how my parents don’t even consider what I have to say, but stuff their ears with cotton balls (not really, but that would be funny). I hate how lately I break down every time I try to stand up. It’s really not okay. Oh no, today was not a very pleasant day.
I love how they told us our French teacher was going to be cranky in her pregnancy, but instead we’re laughing more than ever before. I love how somehow some people keep smiling under stress, duress, the rest. I love poetry and writing and words WORDS, even when the teachers (unknowingly) do their best to ruin them. I love oatmeal raisin cookies with coconut, especially when you find a secret, don’t-you-dare-eat-them stash and you eat them anyway. I love girls who aren’t afraid to yell down the hallway. I love people who give money for nothing, and people who do big somethings for no money at all. Thanks to them, today was wonderful, really truly full of wonder.
But I don’t know how I feel about love and hate and all those words in between. My daddy says hate is a strong word and shouldn’t be misused. Well, I say love is a strong word that shouldn’t be abused. So maybe we should salvage all the lost words floating somewhere in between and serve up some meaning for what should’ve been.
P.S. Sorry to be so mopey and melancholy. If you’re interested, get your own mind-numbing t-shirt over here.