Of all the girls in the world you were the worst by far. We met at the university, at a party for new students. My first impression of you was actually quite good. You were beautiful, you had a beautiful smile, and best of all, you were funny. I don't know when we started to hate each other so much, nor do I remember, but now I can't even see you in painting.

You are basically a witch, a bad and repressed witch. You may be one of the prettiest girls in college but that will never change the way I hate you so much. I can't even stand to listen to you talk in class. Yes, you are very smart, blah blah blah. The worst thing is that the feeling is mutual and you can't stand my existence either.

You're giving an exhibition of the art of I don't know what painter but I'm basically ignoring you. Likewise, I would like to bother you a little, so I raise my hand.

"Yes, Harry?" says the teacher pointing at me.

"What she is saying is irrelevant to the exhibition." I say, watching as your face begins to turn red from anger.