Hate List

by Jennifer Brown

The way she saw it, the more people who “forgave” me, the less I had to feel guilty about. The way I saw it… it was just the opposite.

“Just concentrate on being in the moment,” he said. “Don’t read into things. See what’s really there, okay?

But now the other half of “us” was gone and, lying there in my shadowy room, I’d be struck with this realization that I had no clue how to be just me again.

Because not having a clue who you are hurts way too much. And one thing I did know for sure: I was tired of hurting.

We sank backward into the seat then and howled for what seemed like forever. I couldn’t remember smiling like that. Laughter felt weird in my mouth. It almost had a taste to it.

But it was obvious from the beginning that he and I fit better than everyone else.

She said, “The body has many mechanisms to protect it from trauma,” and I wished mine had more.

“Life isn’t fair. A fair’s a place where you eat corn dogs and ride the Ferris wheel.”

They can have their sunset. It’s the sunrise that gets people’s attention. Rebirth always does.”

“Too much purple?” She turned and studied it some more. “Never too much purple,” she muttered. “The world needs more purple.

“Well, I can spot another artist anywhere. And you are one, yes? Of course you are. You like purple!”

“Costs patience and creativity, mostly. Also time and practice. And self-acceptance. But you won’t find any of those things in your purse.”

“One’s my favorite number,” Bea giggled. “The word won being the past tense of win, and we can all say at the end of the day that we’ve won once again, can’t we? Some days making it to the end of the day is quite the victory.”

“Time’s never up,” she whispered, not looking at me, but at my canvas. “Just like there’s always time for pain, there’s always time for healing.

Being pretty isn’t everything, but sometimes being ugly is.

For once the future seemed heavier than the past.