I hate a lot of things. Many people do. You know the saying, ‘…glass half full, glass half empty?’
Can you guess which one I am?
It’s easy to say that I’m narcissistic, obnoxious, and presumptuous behind my back, but don’t think I’ll just brush it off. No, I have a knack for holding grudges, a vivid memory, and a skill in the art of bluffing. You think you see my cards but they were hidden the whole time; just add it to my resume.
My stubborn demeanor can be seen in one of two ways:
1. Girl boss
2. Total bitch
As you can probably guess, I come across as the latter, so all I’m left with is a smart mouth and a whole bunch of enemies; introverts got it right; the more you put yourself out there, the more people hate you, and the more you begin to hate them back.
Ironically, I hate narcissists. Wouldn’t you believe it? It’s not like I’m trying to hurt people; the problem is that I don’t try not to. So maybe I’m not quite a full-fledged self-obsessed prissy, but I’m also not quite a selfless do-gooder.
Putting a few bad stamps in front of a person’s name makes people take it for face value, so by now, you probably want to throw me off a bridge.
Like any human being, I am flawed, but being as I am, I’m very good at hiding it up my sleeve. People dislike me because I’m not their therapist. Girls, especially, constantly need some sort of shoulder, and they get pissed when they realize I’m not a pushover to their constant drama. Or maybe I am the drama, I haven’t figured that out yet.
It’s an equilibrium. They hate me and I hate them. They have every reason to throw me under the bus, and I have every reason to run them over. It’s the beginning of our social lives, did you expect any different?
Most people I know hide their insecurities and inadequacies for other people, but I hide mine to seem capable and authoritative.
Don’t even get me started on my love life. I intimidate most of the men I meet, and the few who do take a chance on me aren’t aware of my reputation. So I’m alone with no boyfriend and no real friends. Not that I care; it’s only high school.
I’ve tried to become all these different people. I’ve tried to be funny, strong, athletic, smart, or at least typical, but all I needed was a little empathy. The funny thing is, I’ve probably wasted your time. All you see by now is just a sad husk of someone else. What was the point?
Others think that conceited, self-centered people aren’t aware that they’re terrible. Maybe most aren’t. You won’t hear me admit it out loud.
Odium Sui is Latin for self-hatred.
You could call it poetry. How could someone so self-serving, so vein, so selfish think something so contradictory?
I hate a lot of things, and there’s nothing I hate more than myself.
Nichole Quinn is a two-time publisher in literary journalism. You’ll find her best work on Abstract Elephant Magazine and the Southern Quill. As a junior in high school who has competed against adults in writing competitions, success is hard to come by, however, it isn’t impossible. She loves spending time with her family and friends and finds motivation in extra curricular sports and speech competitions, as well as writing and music.
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