I hate you. I hate the way your breasts bounce when you walk. I hate how often you're told "ladies first." I hate your impenetrable group of all girl friends. I hate the female pronouns that slowly chip away at your happy facade. I hate the stereotypes that stick on you like burrs. I hate how every month you're reminded that nature just had to screw up on you. I don't think there's a part of me that doesn't hate you. Maybe little me looks up to you. God, I was such an idiot. I didn't see right away, how much pain you'd cause me. A lot of people hate you. I wouldn't want to be one of them but, hey, you were too. I hate every time you smile when someone calls your name, too afraid to tell them that it's not really yours. It would've been so easy if you could've just done what you were supposed to do but of course you couldn't, you're me.
