I Do Not Like People in General

I hate him.

I hate her.

I hate them.

I hate you.

I hate you.

I hate you.

These thoughts can't escape my mind as I walk down the school halls. I hate everyone and this a known fact to the general public. I hid it for about sixteen years but finally just gave up. I gave up pretending to like everyone I came across because I am not capable of loving freely. The fake smiles, touchy hugs, and girly squeals coming out of my mouth were a contradiction to every thought I was trying to lose in my mind. So now the headphones are in with my glare in place and I am hating everyone I come across. It's quite enjoyable actually. No one bothers to say hi because I no longer make an effort to respond.

I continue to shove my way through the suffocating halls. People move out of the way because my shoulders are back and my head is up. I walk with purpose- I walk like I hate everyone. I pass possibly the most annoying girl I know. And I am perpetually annoyed by all high school girls, so this is saying a lot. She is the girl who posts about her boyfriend every ten minutes on Facebook. She screams and launches herself into hugs when she sees anyone she's ever been in acquaintance with. When she talks to you, her face comes too close and she smells like cotton candy. Ick.

One of the football players pushes against my shoulder. I push back and give him my best death glare. He's an idiot. I don't even know his name, but I would punch him in the face if I had the chance.

I bounce off idiot football player and land into another one. Are they even adept to being alone? I don't have to try and put my pissed off mask on because I am pissed off as I look at this football player. He's hot. Just stating the facts. His life is perfect. He's rich and good looking and exceptional at every sport. The hardest thing he has ever done is lift weights and decide what college scholarship to take. I hate him because someone needs to hate perfection.

I regain my balance and continue the walk of hate. I pass one of the cheerleaders. I can't believe I used to be one of them. I hate all cheerleaders because I see what I could have turned out to be, but I especially hate this one. She always looks perfect. Her smile is always in place and has the body girls kill for. She has no personal style, but always in style. She laughs too much.

The next girl I see is a nobody. No one really notices her but she has a group of friends. Not pretty, not ugly. Just there. Filling in the spaces. She has no opinion on the world and lets people push her around. No personality whatsoever. I don't know how she functions that way.

I pass the town bicycle. She has made out with so many guys I almost respect her. But mainly it is just gross.

This girl is wearing so much make up that I could scrape it off her face. She seems to be popular, but has no real friends. No one can really see past all the make up and skinny body.

The girl passing me is an emotional wreck. She is always sobbing and sniffing or giggling and skipping. And it's not just a week out of the month, this is all the time. She is so dramatic. I do not like her but I enjoy the entertainment she provides. Everyday is something new.

"Kat." someone says from a distance.

I continue to walk. No one ever calls my name.

"Kat." It sounds like an old man.

 I take my headphones out and look around.

Huh. The people surrounding me continue on to class.

I turn my music back on and start hating again.

One guy actually braves waving to me. I raise my eyebrows in acknowledgement and nothing more. I have several classes with him and he is always high. Very much so. He is flirty and touchy and his jokes are never funny. His best friend is walking next to him. The one always by his side. He doesn't say much but I bet he has some pretty funny thoughts if he ever let them be known.

A hand lands firmly on my shoulder and startled, I  jump. "What the hell!" I mumble as I rip out my headphones and look to the hand.

It is an old man.

A very old man.

A very old man that I do not know, I might add.

I give him my best "who-are-you-also-I-don't-like-when-people-touch-me" look. He doesn't acknowledge the expression though it was quite obvious. He just smiles kindly and moves his hand to the small of my back. He starts to lead me through the halls. I walk with him. I'm curious and confused and I firmly believe once you hit the age of seventy you can do whatever you please, so I am going along with this.

He says nothing. I look at the people I'm passing, no longer making a mental hate list but wondering if they find it odd I am being escorted by a grandpa down the hall. No one seems to notice. He walks slowly but steady. He also walks with a purpose. He is walking like he does this everyday. And somehow, I am still going along with it.

"You know that girl you hate? The one you find annoying because of the constant Facebook posts and squealy hugs?" He starts talking as if continuing a conversation we were having. His voice is deep but soft, the comforting kind of voice.

I shyly nod my head.

"The reason she tells everyone about her boyfriend? For the first time in her life, she feels loved. She is touchy and needy because she's never had that. She didn't know it was possible for someone to love her. When she was two years old, her Dad shot her Mom. She was in the room. She was adopted into a strict family and has never felt at home."

I am shocked. I can't say anything, which is rare for me. What? What is he saying?

"The big stupid jock? His Dad makes him play football. It's all he knows. Next year, he will get a scholarship and go off to play college ball. He's going to blow out his knee. He will never play football again and that's all he knows. He will have no where to go with his life."

He pauses for a moment and looks at me with his stormy gray eyes. My mouth opens, but he continues before I can mumble...well mumble something unintelligent.

"And Mister Perfection over there? You're right, his life is pretty perfect. It will stay that way for a while. But his wife is going to get cancer and die when he is thirty years old, leaving him with three kids." His eyes start to slightly water. "And he will sacrifice everything so those kids will be able to have the kind of life he had growing up."

"The cheerleader? She's the one who marries Mister Perfection. She dies at twenty-nine after battling cancer for a couple of years. She is one strong girl. She laughs too much because she sees the good in everything. She believes in being happy."

He stops walking. I look at him. He looks at me with sadness. I don't know if he is metering my shallowness or trying to figure out what makes me hate everyone so much. I can't stand him being able to see through me so I turn my head. I am ashamed.

"The girl that fills in the spaces? You don't like her because she is pushed around? She's was raped last year. She hasn't told anyone yet. She is terrified. She doesn't think she will ever be good enough for anyone. She's...she's just trying to get by." His voice falters. I can tell he wants to say more, but he can't.

"And the girl who uh, well, gets around?" His voice is quavering, but we both smile. "Her parents are in the middle of a divorce. They don't notice anything she does. She needs some attention. She just needs to feel loved." He pauses and we keep on solemnly walking.

"Her, with too much make up? Her Mom tells her she isn't pretty enough everyday. She's anorexic. She has been told she is ugly her whole life. She piles on the make up because she is just trying to get her Mothers approval."

My eyes have started to brim with tears, which hasn't happened in months. I still can't look at the old man. Speaking of, where did this old man come from? WHO? Who are you? I think this loudly, but say nothing.

"Emotional wreck over there? I understand your annoyance." He grins, but it doesn't come close to reaching his eyes. "But she just cares too much. She loves everyone she comes across and is disappointed too easily. She suffers from depression. And right now, her life is good. But when everything gets a little harder, she will go numb. She will stop feeling anything until she is barely a person at all."

"And the kid that is always, what do you say? The kid that is always...high? His older brother introduced him to drugs when he was thirteen. He'll clean up when he is older and it will be difficult. But his best friend? The quiet one?" He stops in his tracks. I keep walking a few steps so I turn around to face him. He is looking directly at me. "He was going to kill himself last year, but his best friend, even if he is a druggy, stopped him. He saved his life."

The old man puts his head down and starts to cry. I am standing two feet away from him just watching. My lips start to quiver. I can't help it, I start to cry with him. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I ever hated any of you.

He looks up at me, emotional in a way I can't explain. He is so defeated, but so happy. Like he knows something I don't. "My dear, there is not a person in this world you wouldn't love if only you could know their whole story."