a love-hate story

Have you ever loved someone so much you couldn’t sleep? Couldn’t eat? Couldn’t stop thinking of her and yet, ironically, didn’t think of her whilst masturbating?

What if I told you there’s a similar feeling with the same outcome but a very different source. Let me ask you this: Have you ever hated someone so much you couldn’t sleep?…

This filthy smile you put on when you enter a room. It’s fake. Every time you decide not to wear a bra so your small, pointy breasts bounce up and down when you run down the stairs. Fake tits. Every hot day you wear that mini skirt which is just long enough to only give you an illusion of how your ass is shaped when you bend forward. You bitch.

You manipulate people around you. Take Saskia for example. She sits next to you in school. Or Mark. He is just too young and too naive to realize that you’re just playing with him.

The teachers like you because you’re witty and smart. You do your homework every day. You have a side job where you help the community. You have a well-working relationship with your boyfriend whose name I just can’t remember. I hate you.

It’s Thursday today and for some stupid reason you decided to wear high heels which express your fat ass even more. Somebody should tell you how fat your ass really is. We’re talking about humongously fat. Moon size.

You’re entering the class room with a smile, your books and a block in your hands, all neatly stacked. You’re wearing a black handbag which has the same pattern as your shoes. Like if anyone cared about that.

You’re meeting your boyfriend after school. I can tell because you’re wearing that bright lipstick. In fact, you only wear lipstick when you meet your boyfriend. On top of that you’re wearing your Hugo Boss cologne.

I see through you. I see behind your facade you dirty bitch. I hate you. I hate you for how you treat other people as if they were shit. On the outside you act like the nice girl. The infamous girl from next door. The “girls want to be like her and boys with her” kind of girl. The girl people have written poems and songs about. Pah.

I’ve also written a poem about you. It goes like this:

I fucking hate you.

– The end.

I know it doesn’t rhyme but it’s hard to find a good rhyme with dirty hell whore.

It’s the third lesson. You’re holding a presentation. I don’t even know what you’re talking about as I’m not listening. Nobody is. You’re nervous. I can tell because your upper lip shivers every time you take a little break. Every time you turn around on your toe tips and turn in a perfect 120 degrees to point on something on the board. It looks too perfect. Too seasoned. Too fake. I bet you watched yourself in the mirror practicing this turn. Testing which shoes are best for the turn. Which outfits works best with it. Blue dress or black dress. Or even a white one? It had to be a cool color to take the attention of your nervousness.

Now you’re pointing at some guy on the black board. I have no fucking clue who that is. Must be the guy who’s cock you suck every Tuesday night.

You know what I really like to do now? I just want to stand up, walk right up to and put my hands around your neck. That long, swan-like neck that you beautified with a thin, silver necklace with a heart-shaped pendant. I want to put my hands around your neck, pull you near me, look you into those wonderful, hazel-colored eyes and then smack your ugly face into the wall.

I’d pull you back and smack you right into the wall again.

And when you collapse I’ll smash you onto the floor and jump on you. Have you ever seen American History X? This is exactly how this would end.

Everybody in the classroom would scream for more, chanting my name, “finish her!” someone would scream and in the end everybody would take turns and kick you until you pass out and eventually die from internal bleeding. Because nobody would help you obviously. We all would just leave you there. And let you die.

You’re done with the presentation and everybody claps. I don’t understand why but probably as they’re happy that it’s finally over. The teacher gives you an A for its “good content”.

“You put a lot of effort in this which one could clearly tell. It’s well researched and you held it short and simple.” You damn teacher’s pet. How could anybody ever like you?

You’re walking back to your seat. Even though you sit two rows in front of me I can smell your disgusting cologne. That sweet smell of roses and cedar. Your sweat produces a cedary scent when you’re nervous. Unlike that smell of velour your sweat has when you work out. I know that because I noticed it when you were on the stationary bike in front of me in the gym. I see you there every other Sunday. The other Sundays you spend at your fathers’s house. Your parents have been divorced for 13 years now. You were only 4 back then. Way too young to even realize it and now it seems completely normal to you but it’s important to you to keep a good relationship with your mother and your father even though they don’t talk nicely about each other.

It’s hard but it’s worth it, you said once.

I know all this because you told Saskia about it. She said that she was sorry for you and wished you to be strong until you’d have more time for both.

She hugged you afterwards, two strokes over your back and a kiss on your left cheek. You’ve gotten pretty close to her in the last school year, haven’t you? Unlike you, she really means it and is actually a nice person. You on the other hand only use her for your personal benefit and the second we get out of this school, you’ll let her drop like a used condom.

It’s lunch break. I’m standing outside lightning my cigarette. I’m just listening to some metal music to calm down after the shitty day we had so far.

The door opens and Julia comes out. Right behind her are you. You’re eating an apple. You slice it with a knife and eat the pieces off of it. To not ruin you lipstick, I assume. Pathetic. How can you be so in love with yourself?

You’r taking your phone out of your pocket. It seems you’ve got a text. I hope it says how disgusting you are. But it doesn’t. Instead you’re smiling. Must be one of those want-to-be funny monkey videos you find so hilarious. I mean after all monkeys are your favorite animals. I take out my phone out as well. I open my contacts and scroll down to your name. New message. C – U – N – T.

But I don’t hit press. Instead I skip to the next song and put my phone back into my pocket.

I take the last drag from my cigarette. You and Julia are going back inside. You open the door and let her pass. While she’s entering you look around. You spot me how I watch you doing this. You smile at me. Why? Why are smiling at me? What’s your plot? You lift your hand to ask me if I want to go inside as well. No. Hell no, bitch.

I shake my head. You nod and go inside. The door closes slowly behind you. Click. You’re back inside and I’m standing alone on the terrace. The wind starts to blow. A little breeze. Strong enough that I can feel the hair on my arms moving. I fucking hate you for doing that.

It’s the last lesson for today. Thank god. French. Fuck! Why did I choose French? Who the hell needs this fucking language? Nobody!

You’re asked to read something out loud. Once again I have no fucking idea what is written in this stupid book.

The teacher praises you as your French is so impeccable. “Like a native speaker”, she says. “Are you sure you don’t have French roots?”

“No”, you say, “I just love the language of l’amour.”

Putain, je te déteste.

Fucking school finally is fucking over for today. Tomorrow again and then it’s finally fucking weekend.

Great. The fucking train is fucking late again. I fucking hate this.

It’s 8 pm. I’m lying in my bed, watching TV when suddenly my phone rings. It’s you!? Why on earth are you harassing me so late at night? You fucking bitch. I’m fucking busy. Don’t you see that?

“Hey can you explain me that thing we did in Economics today? I didn’t really get it and I know you’re good in it.”

I know I’m good. I’m not a fucking dumb ass. Not like you.

I reply: I hope you die! But … I decide not to send it. I just do nothing. Put my phone back next to me and keep watching TV. I pretend I didn’t even read it. I get lost in TV program again.

15 minutes later I get another text. And it’s fucking you again.

“I’ll bring my notes into school tomorrow. If you could help me please. I want to study it over the weekend so I’ll be prepared for the test on Tuesday.”

What test?

It’s followed by a third message simply saying Good night. C U tomorrow

Good night to you as well, bitch.

It’s Friday. Lunch break. I’m sitting on the table. Inside. It’s fucking raining again. Fucking stupid weather. I hate it. I take a big bite from my sandwich. Eeew. Pickles!? What asshole put fucking pickles on my sandwich?

And if it couldn’t get any worse you show up. You sit down opposite of me, without even asking. And I thought you were so well-behaved. I guess not.

You’re not wearing lipstick today. You’re wearing a push-up bra. I can see the outline of it through your grey sweater. Matching grey sneakers.

“How is your sandwich? It looks delicious”, you ask. I just nod.

Please go.

“Did you make it yourself?”

I shake my head.

Please go.

“Anyway, did you get my messages last night? I wanted to ask you if you could help me in Economics?”

Please, go.

You know what? I’ve got a snickers in my pocket. I could grab you right here and smash it into your throat. I know you’re allergic to peanuts. I know that because you’re wearing that bracelet. I could shove it down your ass and watch you suffocate. Watch you how your throat thickens up until you don’t get any air anymore. Your would turn blue and your pupils dilated. Eventually you’d pass out and fall from the chair. Then I would kneel in front of you so that the last thing you’d see was me how I killed you. You’d see me smiling.

Please go.

I was already sleeping, I tell you. I am sorry. See? How easily I lie into your face?

“I thought so”, you say. You smile and close your eyes. Why are you turning your head like a dog? What’s wrong with you?

“Do you have time after school to explain it to me?” You’re tipping on your notebook where in big, bold letters you’ve written the word SHEconomics. I tell you that I have an important appointment after school. Again. Lie.

“Ok”, you say, “Can I call you later today? I really want to study over the weekend.” But I say nothing.

It’s the last lesson for today. History. Today’s topic: Napoleon. Fucking retard that guy.

It stopped raining and the sun is shining. Look how beautiful it is. I look out of the window and watch the birds flying around for a few seconds. So freely. I look back to my notes that I took subconsciously and realize instead of actual taking notes I wrote “Die!”

Thank God I’m sitting alone. I look around. Nobody has noticed anything. Good. Nicole and Melanie are talking about fashion or some kind of shit. I don’t know. Mark is also watching the birds. Saskia is taking notes. Good girl. And you? You’re on your phone again. Not even listening. Who are you texting again? Must be one of your side lovers. I mean we all know you cheat on your boyfriend. You’re a fucking cock addict. Every night you spread your legs you dirty cunt. Everybody knows you cheat. Everybody. Everybody but you boyfriend. That clueless idiot. I feel sorry for him. Next time I see him, I’ll tell him. He deserves to know the truth. It’ll break his heart but I can’t watch this any longer. If you were one of the deadly sins you’d be lust. And greed.

You ugly bitch.

I’m sitting in the metro. There’s an old man staring at me. He looks pathetic. Sad and angry at the same time. His frown is so gross. He looks like he never smiled in his whole life. Fuck off, dickhead. Stop staring at me. Do society a favor and die, old fuck.

It’s 9 pm already. I just came back from the gym. I love going there Friday evenings because it is so empty. I can do all the exercises how I want. No fucking idiot interrupting me or telling me that I’m doing it wrong. Mind your own fucking business asshole.

No dickhead who occupies all the equipment the whole time.

No want-to-be-showoff-douche bag who spends half of his time picking up girls. Of course he fails.

But the best is, no you. No you, how you ride the stationary bike for an hour listening to useless self-improvement podcasts. As if it would do anything. Stop fooling yourself already.

No you, doing squats to gain an even fatter ass. How big do you want it to get? It already covers the sun completely.

No you, having a fruit salad after every workout talking to Sarah. Fuck off, seriously.

I throw my dirty clothes in the basket and turn on my computer. The fight is on tonight. I can’t miss that.

My phone rings. Fat Ass Karina. Why the hell are you calling me right now?

Stop creeping me!

It’s May already. The year is over. We’re having a big party because today we took our last final exams. It’s over. It’s finally over. I still can’t believe it. From tomorrow on I don’t have to see your fucking ugly face anymore. I couldn’t be any happier.

Yet there you are. Dancing on the dance floor. I hate the music they’re playing. I could stab my ears and that would sound better. At least the rum’s good. A bit weak though. It’s my 8th glass and I hardly feel anything.

You’re standing there. Moving your hips and arms in the rhythm. Turning yourself around. You sing along for yourself. I hope you trip and break your leg something. I really do.

The song’s over. You leave the dance floor and walk right up to me.

“Do you want to dance”, you ask.

“With you?” Hell no!

Instead I turn around and go outside to light up a cigarette. For whatever reason you follow me.

“Hey, I just wanted to thank you as this is probably the last time I’ll see you.”

Thank me for what?

“I only passed because of you. Remember the Economics test? I called you and you explained it to me for over an hour. That was very nice of you. I got a B for it. And today, I had the same questions in my oral exam and passed it. And that’s all because of you.”

Hmm, yeah. Congratulations. Please go.

Now you’re hugging me. What the fuck? Leave me alone.

Wait, you’re wearing a different cologne. This one is a different one. You’ve never worn this before.

“How is your boyfriend?”, I ask you.

Then you stop hugging me. You step back a bit and stare at me. You don’t even blink. You seem to be shocked. What is it? What are you afraid of?

What, I ask you.

“Is this meant to be funny?”, you say. I don’ get it.

“Are you even serious, right now?”, you ask me. I don’t understand. I didn’t do anything.

“Didn’t do anything? We broke up because of you!” Whoa, I’m not even sorry for that. Yet I don’t get it. I ask you why and you start yelling hysterically for no reason.

“Don’t!”, you yell but I still don’t get it. I never talked to him and barely talked to you. Not even in school.

“Let me help you”, you say. You sound like an angry mother who is about to lecture her spoiled son who’s done something wrong again but we both know that it’s your fault that your kid is like that but now it’s too late to change it.

Please. Go ahead. Entertain me.

“It was about three months ago. Eric and I were in the city center and bumped into you and we started talking, right? I introduced him to you and out of sudden you told him that I was cheating on him. How did you even come with this?! We had a huge fight afterwards and then he broke up with me. I haven’t talked to him ever since. He doesn’t answer my calls or texts. I’m so mad at you.”

Well, out of fairness you did cheat on him.

“NO, I DIDN’T”

Wow. Now you’re really mad. People start looking at us.

“What makes you think that?”

Would you please leave me alone, Karina? Don’t blame me when you can’t keep your dirty whore legs closed.

Suddenly you muted completely. You just stare at me.

I’m so glad this year is over and I don’t have to see you again.

“What!?”, you ask?

Oh, how I’d love to answer that but I prefer ending this conversation and when I say something it’ll never be over.

“Ok, then”, you say, “I fucking hate you, Thomas Reading.”

AAH, there it is. This word we all love to throw at someone’s head. Don’t you feel relieved? Don’t you feel this warm sensation in your body when you say it? Beloved hatred, please would you never go.

It’s kinda interesting how people always say your full name when they say they hate you.

“I hope you die!”, you yell and leave.

No, you don’t.

“What?”, you ask and come back. And I already thought it was finally over.

“What did you say?”

God, are you fucking def?

Ok, what I said was you don’t want me to die. Neither do you hate me.

“What!?”

Is that all you can say? Boy, now you’re standing really close. Too close for my taste.

No, you don’t. Otherwise you wouldn’t have come here and thanked me for helping you. Actually I don’t understand it as you’re nice to everyone and then again you fall into their backs the second you get the chance to do so.

“I …”. You stutter. Interesting.

And to be honest, I don’t even care. I don’t care if you passed or not. If you still date your boyfriend or not. If you came here to thank me. You’re just another error that has to be fixed.

“You’re such an asshole”, you say and finally walk off. Thank you.

You run crying into the house. The fat ass after you. I have to jiggle as you look so ridiculous with your duck walk. Quack, quack, quack. Yes, run away and cry you little duck bitch.

It’s past 2 am. It’s gotten cold in the meantime. I’m now wearing my jacket. It’s my favorite jacket. Mel is saying good bye to everyone. She’s about to travel around South East Asia for a while. It’ll be great. Send some pictures I tell her. I like Mel. She’s always been a funny girl to hang around. I hope she and I stay in touch.

She leaves and a bunch of other people leave, too. Suddenly I’m all alone outside. Like always.

I light my last cigarette. Damn. I throw the pack over the fence into the neighbor’s garden. Fucking dickheads. Shouldn’t have gone on holiday this week. I threw all my plastic cups into their bushes. Looks like a Christmas decoration now. You should thank me for that.

I’m taking the last sip out of my cup. I sigh. Let’s go back inside. Some people sit on the couch and talk. Don’t know who that is but I also don’t care. Some play cards on the table. The house is almost empty.

I go into the kitchen where two guys talk about cars. Gosh, so annoying.

The rum is gone. The punch bowl is empty, the cooler as well, the beer keg is broken and all the beer has leaked out, onto the carpet. I like that. The only thing left is peppermint schnapps. How I hate that stuff. I’m still not drunk and the party is almost dead. I guess this mouthwash shit has do serve for my walk back home. But first I need to pee.

I go into the bathroom. It smells like piss in her. I want to close the door behind me but some idiot pushes it back open again. What the fuck?

It’s you? What the fuck are you doing? I thought you’d left already. Get the fuck out of her.

But you don’t. Instead you squeeze yourself into the bathroom and close the door behind you. You even lock it. You turn around and look me into the eyes. Yours are all shiny and blazed. Your breath smells like liquor and you sweat a lot. The string of your bra is hanging out under your sleeve but you don’t seem to realize.

What do you want? I need to pee. I ask you to leave but you don’t respond.

Well, then fuck off. I turn around, lift up the toilet seat and unzip my pants. I start to pee. Aaaah. What a relief. Do you hear it splatter?

Suddenly you stand behind me.

Please no!

You press your tiny tits on my back and lay your head on my shoulder. What are you doing?

You start to hug me. I hate you for doing that.

You pull me even tighter. And if this wasn’t already weird enough you put your hand on my belly. It starts wandering down.

Great, now you’re holding my dick. What the fuck are you doing?

You whisper into my ear that you are totally wet right now and want to feel me inside of you. I’m disgusted by this.

Now you start jerking me off.

Fucking stop it, cunt.

I push you away from me and you fall against the shelf. I turn around and you look at me. What the hell?

You just lie there and stare at me. You start to take off your shirt. Distraction maneuver. Trying to trick me. But this ain’t gonna work.

You stand back up. Taking off you shirt and bra and let them drop to the floor. You’re standing there, showing me your tiny tits. That chubby guy in our class has bigger ones than yours.

Please put your shirt back on. I don’t want to go blind.

You come closer. Please no. You kiss me. It tastes like smoke, liquor and shame. Again you put your hand in my pants.

This time I don’t push you away. I don’t know why. I feel ashamed for you. You pull down your pants. Then mine. Now we’re standing opposite of each other. Both naked.

What is wrong, you ask me. I don’t have an erection I know.

“Nothing”, I say. It’s just that you’re fucking ugly.

You kiss me again.

You sit down on the toilet and spread your legs. Your pussy is shaved. You start playing with it. You have a piercing through your clit which I’d have never imagined. Actually, your fucking pussy is not as disgusting as you are.

“I want to have sex with you,” you say, “but I didn’t bring a condom.”

Yeah fuck off. What is all this about then, huh? Getting me naked and showing me your cunt in a bathroom? 5 feet next to us are people talking about the fucking weather. You’re a shame on humanity.

“Do you have a condom?”, you ask. Without even single spur of restraint. Respect. This must be a new record low in your pathetic life.

You bend over and start rubbing my dick. You smile. I could punch you in your fucking face right now, do you know that?

I take your hand and pull you up. “Turn around”, I tell you. I bend you over. Now you lie with your face on the toilet seat. Where you belong. I fuck you from behind. I don’t give a fucking shit if I have a condom or not. If you get fucking pregnant or not. If this ruins your life or not. I couldn’t care less.

I’m leaving this town in two weeks and you will never see me again, bitch.

Your ass is so fat everything shakes when I ram my dick into your pussy. You fucking love it and moan.

“Don’t be so loud”, you moan.

Ha! I never thought you’d be that funny. I bang you hard and fast. I grab your tiny tits and your fat ass. I rub my hand over you back and push you down against the toilet seat. You dirty bitch.

I come. I hurried a bit. I didn’t want this to take forever.

I pull my dick out and get dressed again. You’re still standing there bending over. Your legs are shaking. You look through them at me. Your vagina is wide open and jizz is dripping out. You are disgusting.

“Don’t go”, you tell me. “Can you help me to put on my clothes? Please.”

Fuck off.

I close the door behind me and go home. Tonight I sleep like a stone. You are finally out of my life. I showed you how little I cared about you. How disrespectful you are. You’re a shame for all women. Getting fucked by a guy, who hates you, in a bathroom at a house party. Good luck for the rest of your miserable life, Karina. You will need it.