Hatred. A beautiful emotion that arises
from within at some of the most unexpected and inappropriate times – there’s
nothing more magical than feeling every impulse in your body expel a loathing
towards a someone or a something.
Today, in Economics class, I was feeling
pleasant, if not a little volatile. All was going smoothly until my teacher was
drawing on the whiteboard (a graph on the effect of quotas on international
markets, interesting stuff). He needed a different colour to shade in an area
on the diagram… and he pulled out a whiteboard marker that I lost a month
ago.
I hadn’t even noticed that my marker was
gone but as I looked inside my pencil case (that now felt as empty as ever) I
quickly put two and two together. That cunt took my motherfucking whiteboard
marker. (Okay, so maybe I left it on the whiteboard after drawing a diagram but
it changes nothing.)
This whiteboard marker, this motherfucking
whiteboard marker, is no ordinary whiteboard marker. One side is a menacing coal-black
and the other is a serene, emerald-green – it’s one of a kind, unique beyond
all other texters. It’s kind of a big deal.
When he pulled out my beautiful, treasured
marker the hatred bubbled up inside me like an active volcano seconds before
the lava bursts out of the crater. He then started labeling things with it,
completely oblivious to my cloistered rage. It was madness, how could he not
realise what he was doing? How could he not see my outrage, my face turning an
inevitable beetroot red?
It got worse though.
If using my marker wasn’t bad enough, it
then started running out of ink. And my, teacher, he… he… it’s hard to
communicate this without getting emotional... He started insulting it! The cunt
started calling my whiteboard marker ‘old’ and ‘useless’! How dare he judge it,
after all I had been through!? How dare he stand there adding insult to injury,
rubbing salt in my wounds!?
Sometime during my internal eruption of
resentment towards my teacher and the world in general, he threw my marker in
the bin. When I realised, I had too much pride to retrieve it and felt too much dejection to
even cast a look in its direction.
As soon as I took a step out of the room at
the end of class, all the hatred dissolved. My teacher went from cunt back to
generally annoying octogenarian. I held a mini-funeral in my head for the
whiteboard marker and went about my day, indifferent as usual. :)
Fuck the world.
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