A quick one shot I wrote. It's contest shipping, which I realized I didn't add in the title til after I posted it. I guess the rating should be G. Maybe PG-13...
Okay, so my English teacher said that writing this might help with my frustrations, so here I am. Not that I listen often in English, cause I don’t, it’s too easy, but I still catch something here and there.
May is the girl who I've known since I was about eleven or so. She's the one who sits in front of me in history. Not only history, but french, english, science, math. It's not my fault Natale comes before Natel. She's even in my damn Phys Ed class. She's not that b--good. Actually, she's horrible. She's the worst athlete I've ever seen.
So here goes a waste of my time.
Number 50: I hate her hair- not only is it naturally curly where each curl bounces with every step she takes and sways when the wind comes through the open window but it whips me in the face too! That is assault, and she should be sent to jail. And of course it can’t be some boring brown, but it has to be that kind of golden tint to it that you can imagine on angels. Not that I think she’s an angel. Hell no. She’s already committed a crime, with 49 more, so she can’t be an angel. She’s the devil. Yes, the devil. And her beau—beastly curly hair is just as bad as she is.
Number 49: I hate the way she smells. Vanilla on Mondays, orange on Tuesdays, Raspberry on Wednesday, Cotton Candy on Thursdays and strawberry on Fridays. It smells am—atrocious. Even worse than skunk spray. I’d choose skunk spray over that crap any day. That’s how bad it smells. And sometimes, if I get a good whiff of it, I feel like barfing.
Number 48: I hate how her skin looks so flawless; it looks lo—like wax. Yup, she must’ve gotten some type of surgery to make it look like that. That’s why it’s so fai—fake. Faker than Pamela Anderson’s chest. Not that I look at it…
Number 47: I hate her eyes. Why do they have to be so blue, like the ocean? The kind of ocean that is infested by all kinds of gross swimming bacteria, and that has been peed on my numerous people. The kind that has E Coli in it. But the way they tend to sparkle makes me wonder why she's always so delighted with life. There's nothing so special about it if you ask me. But it would be much better if she were gone. A hell of a lot better.
Number 46: I hate how the stupid things she says makes everyone laugh, and makes the mood lighten up. But what if we don’t want to mood to lighten up? What if we don’t want to laugh? She’s doing a disfavor to us all.
Number 45: : I hate her annoyingness - is that even a word? See! She’s so annoying that she’s making me make up words just to describe her. I swear—something is wrong with that girl.
Number 44: I hate how she can be so energetic in the morning and hell- every second of the day. I swear she’d probably be bouncing off the walls into oblivion if she wanted to. She’s a hazard to society.
Number 43: I hate how she bumps into me sometimes, when she’s running carelessly (which is a violation of school rules, she should be SUSPENDED), and how she apologizes a thousand times. It’s not like she hurt me. I actually li—loathe it when she does that. She’s a hooligan and should be put behind bars.
Number 42: I hate how she doesn’t notice when I throw things at her. Like yesterday, when I was throwing bits of paper at her in English. But she didn’t notice at all. She just had this dopey look on her face while she looked out the window. How disrespectful! The poor teachers slaves away to make us learn something, but she’s too busy in her own imaginary world.
Number 41: I hate how she likes to put all the troubles of the world on her shoulders, and always tries to do something good for the environment. It’s not like she does good. She always screws up, but at least she tries…to cause trouble to everyone. Yeah, she’s such a pain in the ***. But it was cute when she cried for the puppies. Wait did I just write that? I meant the puppies were cute when they cried to her. Did you know puppies can shed tears? It’s true they can.
Number 40: I hate how she has declared to the world that candy is her first love. Why isn’t it me—milk? Milk is good for her bones, and it looks like she needs it. Candy will only make her teeth rot. Not like they don’t look rotten already. They’re too perfect and straight. I bet they’re fake.
Number 39: I hate how she always talks about and probably dreams about fictional characters from books. Especially that Cullen guy. He seems like such a prick. I swear, there is nothing good or cool about him. I don't know what all the hype is about. Well, it’s a good thing he isn’t real or I’d have a fun time chasing him down and burning him at the stake—Not that I’m jealous or anything, heaven forbid. I just like burning things.
Number 38: I hate how she always tries to make me laugh or smile. What’s the point? She knows I wont. But if she ever does get the slightest change in my expression, she’ll feel extremely proud of herself.
Number 37: I hate how she always catches me off guard by saying stupid things like “When you are here, I’m always glad” and “Making you smile makes me feel like I’ve accomplished a great task. Thank you for making me feel so great.”. Those kinds of things are so swe—I meant annoying. The sw was a complete typo on my part. So sorry.
Number 36: I hate how she always says good morning to me even though she knows I wont reply. I don’t want her to have a good morning. I want her to have a terrificying one. Oops, made up another word. Damn, I hate her.
Number 35: I hate how she is too honest with her feelings, especially when she tells me things that I don’t want to know. Like the time she told me she enjoys massaging her 80 year old grandmas feet with lotion because it makes her grandma happy. Just the thought of her touching old people feet makes me wish she’d never touch my stuff. But then again, I guess it's nice to know that she—I mean someone—trusts me with their problems and secrets. She can pay for the damages to my eardrums when she gets a job.
Number 34: How she always touches my stuff, with the hands she uses to massage her grandmas feet! So unhygienic. I should report her to the doctor, so he’ll scream at her.
Number 35: I hate it when she hits her head on something, which happens constantly. Sometimes her head hits mine, and she ends up injuring the two of us. Doesn’t she realize that she’s losing a massive number of brain cells by getting hit everyday? Well, I guess if she’s losing brain cells everyday, it could be the reason for her lapse in memory for getting hit the day before… Yeah, moving on.
Number 34: I hate it when she cries about every sad thing she hears. Like when we had to read the newspaper in English and there was that article on a kid that got hit by a car and died. She cried her head off, but I just read on. **** happens. Still, I did feel a little sad. Poor kid.
Number 33: I hate it when she bites her lip when she’s thinking hard. That disease is easily spread. I know because the next minute, I’m biting my lip trying to think of what she’s thinking about to make her bite her own lip. My best guess was that she was trying to eat herself, which means she’s a cannibal. Then, since I’m biting my own lip, I’m a cannibal too. She’s making me try to kill myself. Ugh.
Number 32: I hate her nasty temper that makes her cheeks red and her ears steam in a beau—cough, ahem—beastly kind of way. That’s it, she looks beastly when she’s mad. I mean, her eyes turn darker than mine, I swear, she's Satan's spawn.
Number 31: I hate it when she constantly turns around in her seat to see if I’m getting the same answers as her. This gives me a good view of her face, which is downright nasty.
Number 30: I hate how she always passes me the ball in Phys. Ed. Who says I want to get the ball? I don’t think it’s because I’m one of the most athletic kids in the grade…it’s not my fault I like soccer. But I don’t see why I’m the only one she gives the ball to. The other people aren’t so bad.
Number 29: I hate how I’m at number 29 and I’m running out of things to write. But if I look at her there’ll be a wave of reasons why I hate her that’ll come rushing to me. Then I’ll get a headache. She’s going to pay for my medical bill.
Number 28: I hate the clothes she wears. Those skirts are too tight, where they sit two inches above her knee. That’s violating our school policy of having skirts above the knee. There’s another way to get her suspended. Even though all our uniforms are the same (since this is a private school), she still does something to make herself look different. Like that pin she wore yesterday with Prince William’s face on it!
Number 27: I hate how she then said that Prince William was the hottest man in the world. Good thing he’s on the other side of the world. And that he’s a prince. Cause he can’t ever get her. So that’ll make my chances even greater. Not that I want to get with her.
Number 26: I hate how her friends always follow my friends and me at lunch, and how she comes up next to me and tries to get some conversation out of me at lunch.
Number 25: I hate it that she’s Italian; not because I hate Italy or Italians, but because just like all of them she is so proud. Like them, she is beau—boring. No offense Italians, but you’re all very boring.
Number 24: I hate how my friend Brock saw me looking at her, and he started to laugh. So then I had to punch him in the face. She’s evil enough to make me punch my own friend in the face! Although it felt kind of good…
Number 23: I hate that she’s so optimistic—I don’t know why she believes that there is always a bright side to bad situations and can smile when there is so much bad in the world. Like the time my cat, Spark got hit by a car. At that time, I was in shock, and panicking. I lifted him up and wrapped him in my jacket, and started to run with him to the vet, which was ten block away. A third of the way there, she was sitting on her front steps, and she followed me. She helped me carry him, and although she was crying her head off, she still kept up with me. When we were at the vet, she said that Spark would be just fine, even though his front leg was broken. I thought he was going to die, for sure. But she was right. Spark acts completely normal now.
Number 22: I hate that she saw me tear up during the Spark accident. It’s not right for guys to cry, but it’s even more wrong for girls to watch! But I wasn’t crying. It was just a tear. And anyway, we were twelve at the time.
Number 21: I hate that she is just as stubborn as I am. We never solve anything because she always thinks that she's right when in reality, I'm right. See what I mean?! But I am always right—I am.
Number 20: I hate how she looks good in my favorite color. Note to self: Never buy anything black for her. Not that I’m going to buy her anything. I don’t think it’s normal for someone to buy a present for his enemy. She’s my enemy, so no gift for her.
Number 19: I hate when she has random mood swings. But then again, it’s because of stupid woman and their PMS. Still, she’s one of the worse.
Number 18: I hate how she pretends to be so stupid but then, out of nowhere, she says something so simple but makes so much sense. Sometimes I think she is hiding her intelligence. I bet she’s some sort of super genius who is spying on me from the FBI.
Number 17: I hate how she hangs out with other guys without ever considering the effect it has on m—Misty, her best friend. Misty is in love with all of them.
Number 16: I hate the way she’s always there when I’m lonely—not that I’m frequently lonely or anything. I have a lot of friends but just to appease her, I find a way to make some time for her because I’m such a good Samaritan and I know that she misses me.
Number 15:I hate how she pretends to not know the effect she has on other guys when their tongues are hanging out every time she walks by and when they accidentally push her books over her desk just so that they can see her bend down to retrieve them. Stupid guys that want a death wish and stupid girl for being so damn conniving.
Number 14: I hate how she forgives everyone so easily. Like that guy who was on the news for killing 6 students at his college. After a few minutes of her shock and disbelief, she said, “Well, I suppose he must have had a reason to do it. Maybe he was sick in the head, or maybe everyone bullied him so much that he couldn’t take it anymore. That’s why you have to be nice to everyone.”
Number 13: I hate how she actually is nice to everyone. Like she’ll help the teacher carry her books when there are too many. But I bet she only does that to be teachers pet. Yup, she’s a miss goody goody.
Number 12: I hate how she’s so damn naďve and dense for her own good. How could she not see that I—I mean Ash—has liked her since we—I mean he—was twelve?
Number 11: I hate how her voice sounds so good when she sings—then again, any other time she sounds like a strangled sheep trying out for the opera. So obviously, her singing voice sounds so much better.
Number 10: I hate that she is so damn persistent when she asks me what’s wrong or the others about their problems. Not that it helps pouring our—I mean their—problems on her or anything. Maybe it’s nice to know that someone will listen and care—not that I need it—I’m just speaking on behalf of the majority of our class
Number 9: I hate how she works so hard to make sure no one throws garbage in the corridors or on the school grounds. Then what are the janitors supposed to do?
Number 8: I hate her laugh, it catches on fast. When her soft, clear laugh rings loudly, all I want to do is laugh along with her. But I don’t want to. Cause she’s gross and the worst girl in the world.
Number 7: I hate how she always offers me one of the cookies she’s baked. Why does she have to be so kind? I bet that those cookies are full of poisons that will kill me. That’s why I never accept one.
Number 6: I hate it when she decides to tutor me if I fail a test, even though she failed it herself. I bet she’s trying to teach me all the wrong things so that I do even worse on the next one. I hate it even more when she asks me for help in front of everyone, and I have no choice but to agree. However, I do so reluctantly, since I like it when she begs.
Number 5: I hate how she always waits with me after school so we can walk home together. Since her house is on the same route as mine, she thinks it more fun when we walk together. I don’t want to walk with her. It’s more like she’s following me. Although her company is nice sometimes…
Number 4: I hate it when she compliments me. She always find something nice to say like “Wow Drew, you’re so smart!” which I am or “I like your hair; it’s so nice!” even though it’s shaggy and I don’t give a damn about it or “You have a nice smile; you should smile more often!”. It makes me feel all giddy inside. Then I feel like slapping her for making me feel giddy. Hell, guys shouldn’t feel giddy.
Number 3: I hate how she makes me want to throw up. Elaboration, you ask? When she’s around, I have this allergic reaction—no joke. So now I think I need an Epipen or something, and I’ll have to stab myself with it to keep myself alive every time she’s around, which is ALWAYS.
My heart accelerates and hammers in my chest and there’s this churning thing in my stomach that makes me want to throw up. My throat tightens up, and I feel like I can’t talk (but it’s not like I want to). My arms tingle and worst of all, when she’s around, all I want to do is sm—I’m not going to finish that. I guess another major symptom is talking to a piece of paper. I mean, I just asked if you wanted my elaboration and I just called you “you” again—I'm going insane!
Number 2: I hate her smile. I hate her smile so much because it’s always so wide and warm. It makes her eyes sparkle and then it makes me want to smile and oh God—it’s horrifying. And the most horrifying thing of all is that she smiles for no reason at all. I swear, one time I was watching her looking out the window and all of a sudden, she turned around and smiled at me. Lunatic, I tell you!
Number 1: I hate that I just realized those aren’t good reasons to hate her at all. No matter how many times I push her away or how bad I treat her, she comes back. She’s too damn wonderful and she always smells so damn good. She looks beautiful in red and she works too hard and she’s too damn thoughtful. She’s managed to squeeze her way into my too puny heart—I swear, it’s the same size as the Grinch’s—and she manages to see the best in me when I can’t see anything worthy of seeing. She is an angel. She’s thoughtful and optimistic, stubborn as hell with a horrible temper along with it and has the restraint rivaling a volcano’s when she’s angry.
She tries hard to do anything to make me be happy, even if it means going completely out of her way. Doesn’t she know that I already am happy with all the attention she gives me? And all of the times when I have to save her from creepy *******s that feel the need to palm her when they think I’m not around is worth it when she smiles my smile—the one only reserved for me.
She makes me feel empty when she’s not around and whole when she is and I can’t help it, dammit!
She’s worth it—she is so damn worth it and I spent two hours making a list of everything I hate about her when in reality, the only damn reason I hate her so much is because she makes me feel like I’m worth it, too. I hate that I’ve been pushing her away from my true feelings since I was twelve, since she saved Spark. I hate that I love her so much, that I feel like I would die if she would be gone.
“Are you sure that’s not a list of 50 reasons why you love her, Drew?”
Number ˝: Okay, she just made me punch two friends in the face in one day. Luca saw me smile at her when I thought no one was looking, so I had to punch him to get that smirk off his face.
Oh well, that doesn’t change anything. I still love her. And it’s killing me that my damn ego is stopping me from confessing to her, from getting her gifts, from appreciating her openly. Someday, I’ll kill my ego. That’s the day I’ll finally be with her.