Make a little love in the moonlight

"I know you hate all boys, but I'll bet there's one special boy. One that you hate more than all the others combined - right?"

"Maybe."

"Do you think about him sometimes? I mean, how much you hate him? You think about how you'd like to torture him? Like, dumping a whole wheelbarrowful of stinging ants on him?"

"Maybe."

"I hated somebody like that once. We were in seventh grade. I hated her more than anybody in the world. Yeah. Know what I did to her?"

"What?"

"I married her."

I hate you, and I don't understand why anyone else would stick up for you. Why people would say you aren't that bad after everything I've heard. You're despicable, but I guess it's something you can't help - boys will be boys, right? You're awful, disgusting, and I wish I could do something to spite you. I wish I were a super hot girl, just so I could spite you. I want you to yearn for something you can't get - I want you to know how it feels like not to get what you want. You and your bloody charm - a mask of innocence concealing the mind of an asshole. How things just seem to fall into place for you. How half the girls in the room that night had admitted to recognising your attractiveness and charm. What the heck, you don't even look good. Seriously.

Then again, it's a blessing to be average-looking (or worse) and not be one of those gorgeous, popular girls in school - sure, I'm sure all the guys would admit to having liked any one of them at one point in their college life here, but how much of any guy's love for these girls is real? When you're not pretty and not outstanding, and someone truly likes you for who you are inside, that's more precious than a thousand boys proclaiming their love for a pretty girl.

A select few are lucky enough to be the apple of the eyes of the whole school, and everyone else just fades into the distance. I'm one of those standing in the shadows, staring up at the light of the popular kids and wondering when I'll find the love they seem to get with the snap of a finger.

But there's the difference between a passing phase for a pretty face, and the love for someone for who she truly is.

Oh but what the heck. This is JC.