I think everybody should like everybody.

Last year

on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day,

I wrote a post about civil rights,

but I took it down.

It seemed too naive

or too optimistic.

It didn't feel right.

This year I keep thinking

Right?

But there are so many people

that I don't like.

I always joke

that I don't like anyone.

I hate it when strangers

talk to me.

I don't like the girl

in my class

because she talks too much.

I don't like that boy

because of the way he's dressed.

I don't like that boy

because I heard him

say something mean once

and I can't get over it.

I don't like that girl

because I don't understand

why everyone likes her

more than me.

Of all the people around me,

there are so few

that I really want

to get to know.

Now how can that be?

How can that be

when the Freedom Riders

got on those buses

and rode to Jackson

so we can all

sit next to each other?

How can that be

when thousands got together

and marched

and sang We Shall Overcome?

How can that be

when more than one man

has had his face stomped in

and his head blown through

to create a world

where people finally accept

that it's not okay

to hate each other

for stupid reasons?

All I want

is to love everyone.

But I hate people

for stupid reasons.

Any reason

is a stupid reason.

.

.

.

And every year

for the rest of my life,

we'll get the third Monday

in January off.

And in some corner

of this world,

police will be shooting

innocent people.

And people will be shooting

innocent police.

And people will spend

their day off

on a road trip

or going out to lunch

or just sitting around

doing the same old things.

And I'll have to sit there

with myself

and admit to myself

that even with all these years of living,

I'm still not as kind

as I'd like to be.