Last Entry to the Battle of the Pens Competition |
Words: 265 Line Count: 32 I Detest Thee Do you remember how it felt, the day we walked into that hell? My stupid mind was filled with visions of the great and wonderful people I would meet on these sweat and tear stained grounds. I was, and still am not, very good with the mundane people of everyday society; they call me awkward or weird. I blame that for how those days went. As we woke in the early hours of morning, our tired and hungry bodies rushing to the cafeteria in order to not be the last ones, I was always struck by how lonely it felt. I was the newcomer in the frey of multitudes of students who had probably been here before; the lonely outcast in a place where friends must have been made years earlier. Oh, I did try. I went to classes on Spanish, astronomy, and art; my voice and features warm. But none could produce someone who did not sneer or walk away when I told them I was new. These walls speak of laughter and long made loves of learning, where hope can be found, but I have not yet met that elusive creature that is proclaimed to live with its cousin of solace here. So you know what I hate most about hope? When it dies, you curse the fates for allowing it to infect your mind and soul in the first place; as if you were not the fool that invited it. Because hope isn’t pretty; it is an parasite masquerading as an angel that feeds until there is nothing left to cling to. |