The Showers Here
For gg's rant challenge-- I delivered this standing on a table in the Castleton cafeteria, to the general enjoyment of the lunch crowd and acute annoyance of the cafeteria staff.
I hate the showers here! I love this place, but I hate the showers-- I hate huddling under an icy trickle, resenting my own need to get clean, and there's the one fttt of hot perfect water that makes you come back to the same stall day after day, hoping you'll be rewarded for your loyalty with just a minute, just half a minute, just a few blesséd seconds of warmth-- and meanwhile, your roommate has taken the shower with the water pressure than can push you to china and it's spraying your legs with a thin mist of distant warmth under the stall divider-- I hate stall dividers! And shower curtains groping inward to wrap around your hips. And I hate the soap holders bolted to the wall--"Excuse me, can you get off the table?"--Is the chair okay?-- the soap holders that your shampoo always falls out of, of which your shampoo always falls out; I hate grammar and I hate that I hate bad grammar and I hate emo poetry, and emo poetry set to music, and songs that get stuck in your head when you're trying to sleep and staring at the wall, shivering because it's summer, dammit, and it's not supposed to be this godsdamn cold; I hate the cold, I love winter and snow and ice but not the ice that sinks into your bones and stays there 'til may; I hate pneumonia and the way it steals my friends' lungs and bodies and sends them into loops of-- minnows-- and I hate the madness and depression that consumes the people I love. And I hate bigotry, and stereotypes, and people who think people who think people who think people should be straight. And I hate-- hate, which is why I try to hate only the small things, like showers, or the wide things, like organized religion, which is used to it and feeds off hate as much as it feeds off love. And I hate circumstance, and sunburn, and the girl who sits next to me on the bus whose hair smells strongly of strawberries, and I hate the passage of time.
WHAT DO YOU HATE?