Interesting thing, my dad happens to be a huge admirer of Reverend Martin Luther King Jr.–as most are–and in the spirit of the times, he asked that God would bring him a child with the same spirit to help and love others. Apparently, that child was me! Now, I don’t know about me inspiring national movements or anything, but I do love and appreciate what he did. My birthday also happens to be the day before his–January 14th–which was apparently confirmation enough for my father :). So, in celebration of Martin Luther King Jr. Day, here are a few inspirational quotes. And remember, always act kindly and love cheerfully.
Confessions: I Don’t Hate You.
I hate that I’m thinking about you, that I can go months without seeing you and be fine. But the one day that I see you, every unexplainable feeling returns.
I hate that I find you attractive, regardless of the fact that you are.
I hate that tiny mole on the right side of your face, because it’s cute and I remember it. Or the nearly unnoticeable dimple at the tip of your nose. I shouldn’t remember these things.
I hate that you have the face of a child. but you try to make up for it by growing minimal facial hair. Or that I notice.
I hate that there are memories of us, and though they may have been short and sweet, they are nonetheless engrained in my mind forever.
I hate that I held on to your blue bracelet for approx. two years, even though it had broken, because I didn’t feel as though it was mine to throw away. But, you gave away my pink bracelet without a second thought(so it seems). & I think that you mentioned it in front of me on purpose. I hate that I can recall that.
I also hate that I held on to the bear that you gave me until the week before I moved out of my house (3 months ago) because something told me (in addition to my mom and sister) that holding on to it would be meaningful someday, or that I’ve now given it away. Or the fact that I even care.
I dislike that you’ve changed. But the newer you is slightly attractive.
I hate that you dated her. I hate that you loved her. But, even more so, I hate that it bothers me.
I hate that if you got married to her, I know I wouldn’t be okay with it; I don’t even know if i could happily attend your wedding. But I hate even more that I wouldn’t be happy at any wedding of yours involving someone else.
I hate that I saw you recently and I didn’t get to say hello. I hate even more that it probably didn’t cross your mind.
I went home and thought about you. I became nostalgic and I remembered our innocence. A boy with a crush, a girl without a care. Eventually i grew to like you. I took you for granted because I assumed you’d always be there. Now I know how it feels to be on the receiving end, and I’m sorry for that.
I hate that I dreamt about you the night before I left. You’d written me a letter/email and expressed in grave detail how you felt. Whether it was good or bad, I’m not sure, but it was nice to hear from you.
I hate that I awakened and looked directly at my phone because I allowed myself to believe that the figment of my subconscious became a reality.
I hate that I miss you and I don’t know why— There should be nothing to miss.
I hate that I may love you, and I don’t know how— I mean really, how is that possible?
I hate that you are my only exception— The Only Exception.
& I hate that although I’d never want you to see this, I need you to see it and know it all the same.
But most of all, I hate that I could do any and everything but hate you.