They say the opposite of love is not hate

It’s just indifference

 

And because

those who seem to love me

those who really know me enough to love me

seem so few and far between

They say the opposite of love is not hate

It’s just indifference

 

And because

those who seem to love me

those who really know me enough to love me

seem so few and far between

That I wish to be hated

wish for angry looks

eye rolls

scowls

not just

 

indifference

 

I don’t think

I have ever been hated

not really, truly hated

yes, I’ve been disliked

distrusted

Have had people turn away

 

But it was more like disinterest

standing in the rain

Waiting

For someone to look my way

 

And I know this sounds like I’m just

Waiting to be discovered

But maybe it’s more like

I’m waiting to discover

Waiting to find a way to be hated

 

Waiting to find a way

To stop crying alone in my room

With my cat

And pocket fulls of those

Awful Fig Newtons

My friend’s mother

Keeps giving to me

But I’m too polite to refuse

 

And someday

I know

I will be hated

I look forward

To having someone look me in the eye

And say

Claire

You are such a bitch

 

And I’m not delusional enough to think

That someone hasn’t said that

about me

already

But I want them to say it

to my face

 

Because every once in awhile

It’s nice to know that you matter

It’s nice to know that

someone cares enough about me

To hate me

 

Because the one thing I cannot stand

Is apathy

Indifference

To be ignored

To be forgotten

 

And I look forward to that day

Because right now I feel all that I am doing

Is looking backwards

At all the incredibly awkward

Things I have said

or done

 

And although in those

Twelve whole years I’ve been alive

It doesn’t seem like there would be enough time

For so many unspoken words

 

But somehow there is

And maybe it’s just the hormones

coursing through my veins

Or the fact that I spend

So much of my time

In my room

Reading about long dead urban planners

 

But sometimes I feel like I should just stop

Thinking

so

much

Because sometimes

All those words

Seem to just pile up

 

Like that shrine of stuffed animals

I have under my bed

 

And eventually get forgotten

Or I get lost in the thoughts

I climb under my bed

And hide in those stuffed animals

all

day

Long

Because sometimes it’s good to be six years old again

But sometimes it’s also good

To crawl out from

Under my bed

Bring those thoughts

Out

Into the light

 

Because maybe if I bring one of those

old stuffed animals

Out into the light

And give it to my cat

She may hate it

But also

What if she loves it?

 

And even if you are hated

It’s better than collecting dust

Underneath my bed

 

And if you’ve survived this incredible

Dose of angst

 

Maybe some of it makes sense?

 

because

Being hated sucks

I’ve watched mean girls enough times

To attest that that’s probably true

 

But sometimes if you hate something

Oh so much

It’s easier to start to love it

Then not to care?

 

And maybe because

I’m a chronic idealist

 

I believe that if everyone just started to care

 

If everyone dropped that shield of apathy

And indifference

 

Maybe some things would get better

 

My father once told me

That the best people

Are those who think about something

Besides people

Besides caring what someone else does

Or thinks

 

And I agree

I have met some really shitty people

Who I can’t help but admire

Because they know what they love

And they love what they know

Because it’s nice to see someone

Who loves

 

But I also disagree

With what my father

Told me

Because sometimes it’s good

to think

About people

Sometimes it’s good to know

People are thinking about you

 

But I think

What he really meant

was that I shouldn’t let

The people

Become me

 

It’s good to care

It’s great

Actually

But I don’t want that feeling

To become me

 

And since my claustrophobia

And my introversion

Clearly mandate

That sometimes

I need space

 

if only everyone just took a second

To notice

Maybe they could

hate

 

And I’m not saying

That everyone

Has to love

everything

 

I mean

Somethings about me

Are pretty

Worthy to hate

 

Like all those times

I ignore the recycling bin

Or the fact that I

Take an hour to decide

What kind of candy

I want in my junk drawer

 

But there are some things

To love about everyone

 

Like the time I cried

For hours after accidentally

Killing a spider

Or when I organized

My cabin to recite

Howl by Allen Ginsberg

 

But when everyone is

So complicated

The one thing

We shouldn’t do

Is not to notice

 

Don’t let the possibility

Of hate

Overwhelm you

 

Because you know

At the end of Mean Girls

Kady is loved

Once again