I hate you.

On my way home I'm standing on the bus. It's not too late actually, 9.30pm, but absolutely pitch black outside. My stop is getting closer and I'm gathering myself and my bags together, checking that nothing is left behind. Like I always (try to) do every morning when I'm on the bus. But tonight as I stand in front of the doors I see myself doing something more than that in my window reflection. I pull my hood up and I tuck my hair in. Just like that. Without thinking about it.

Now why did I do that? 

Because somewhere deep down I'm anxious. Maybe afraid even. And then I only have a three minute walk to my door from the bus stop. But surely so did a lot of the girls who we could all read about in the newspaper the following day. Who never got home that evening. Who never got to say goodbye to loved ones and who had to leave this world in pure horror.

So therefor I write this to everyone who is responsible for me being afraid to walk alone in the dark. I write this for every child who no longer has a mom - or a dad - because of what you've done. I hate the fact that although I have no idea why you are hurting so much that you have to hurt others, you still affect my life. I hate the idea of more money being spent on prison food then on school dining. I hate feeling the need to look over my shoulder all the way home. I hate being told to walk "with an attitude". I hate wondering if I should choose to wear pants instead of a skirt sometimes. I hate the feeling of late night running being out of the question. I hate being relieved whenever a male friend is going the same way as me so we could have company.

I hate you all. For making me tuck in my hair.

/Å