Teenage Girls: An Angry Rant

I want to write something beautiful

but I don't have anything beautiful inside me.

This spring it has been cloudy and rainy almost everyday,

but oh...those sunny days.

Those are the days you try to convince yourself are enough.

Turn your face to the sun

and it vanishes,

as if a thought were a strong enough thing to extinguish light.

They make light with each other

and I watch

and every word I say is the wrong one.

I hate teenage girls.

I hate them, I hate them, I hate them.

But mostly just the shiny ones who can turn their pain to laughter.

When boys talk to me I know that they mean what they say. That when they don't respond it means they haven't heard. 

When I talk to girls they say nice enough things, even when they try to correct me, it's not with an angry tone, but with laughter. 

So why do I feel so bruised afterwards?

When I talk and they don't respond I can't tell if they haven't heard, or if they are ignoring me, or if they simply only listen to her, 

and I am background noise.

We tell the daughters of our society that young men are their most dangerous threat. 

Maybe that is true. 

But society forgets to mention that young women are what will probably cause them the most pain,

the most insecurity,

the people who will abandon them the most. 

So I hate teenage girls,

but I hate more that I crave their attention,

and love,

and adoration,

and laughter. 

When we say "hate" I think that what we really mean is "I hurt".