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Stop It. Just.. Shut Up Bull.
I hate a lot of people.
I look through the round spirals that are my eyes, the greens mixed so heavily with grey, all plummeting into some horrific spider web against my irises. Through these eyes, I see a world full of people for the hating. They don't deserve attention, though they get it. It's in their demeanor's, the way they walk, the ways they talk.
"Well, I didn't know that, so..."
So finish your sentence and stop trying to get the upper hand.
I can tell, all, all around me, they're all so stupid, incompetent. Feeling as though their lives now will be the lives they will carry forever. Just because the vast changes necessary for the transformation from child to adult are incomprehensible to them- as they naturally should be to all of us- they feel as though it'll never happened to them. It can't. It won't.
Well, it won't, dear child, because you're comparing it to yourself. And you won't be the undeveloped, shallow minded, idiot you are forever. Unless you choose to be, and only so many people can fit that bill before the world explodes with prospective lemmings.
Just because you can be stupid, you really can't.
They look at the world with blinded eyes and buffered brains. With the brief and intense grapples for control, the upper hand against their teachers and their parents. Their guardians, their whatevers, I don't care. They want the control for themselves, for they think they have all the knowledge they need. And for their age, and their occupations, as children, they do. But not for the job of a grownup- for an independent being. Not at all.
This is what they all have to understand.
But it hurts to knock on their heads, even more that knocking on a brick wall.
They have an everlasting opinion concerning the smarter- or in some cases, not smarter, but meeker- race. The groups of people, like me, like a girl I know, that know more than they. And because our words are unheard of and rejected in their environments, they believe we are... what else? Stupid. The words don't make sense. So we must be stupid.
Picking up what I'm putting down?
They all think we're nuisances.
The feeling is mutual...
... sometimes when we look at them.
... sometimes when we look at ourselves. In the mirror. And cry.
I'm tired of all of it.
I know I'm smart. I know I have a voice. I'm sick of hiding under someone else's power. Their power that they bestow upon themselves.
There's a simple test. A test to know who's smart and who's not. A contest.
Whoever's got love wins.