Hate- a fine word, simple, concise, often overused or improperly. Words are little shards of glass that blow into your eye, and settle in your mind. Some days I feel them all gathered together cutting into my soft tissue causing me no little discomfort. I am not all that hateable, because I am not all that special. I am mediocre at my best. Once I lived in extremes and everything I said and did was jarring. Once upon a time I was wild and raging and daring, and then living fully. (To live in and of its self is an offense to those who shuffle through life hiding in video games and cubicles.) I was a perfectly square circle and for that I was hated. They built effigies and burnt them. They spit on me as I walked down the hall. They screamed at me for speaking and beat me for breathing. They broke me down. Slowly I reassembled but I was not the same. Journeys mark you. They change you. They turn you into something new. Now I am here, and suburban. Now I get good grades, work at a glossy magazine, wear clothes that do not shock or offended. Still I am hated, this morning I felt its cut. I would prefer for it not to be wielded against me lightly. If I am hated now it should be earned. I carry no offense. I am innocent and yet there is still blood upon my hands. His judgment is bleeding me. I would be clean.

-adipose

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