Forgive Me If I Don’t Want To Be Nice

“Nice” is what they call the Queen Bee in school. Because she has an infectious smile, and a chirp in her voice that only turns to malice behind their backs. So forgive me if I don’t want to be “nice.”

Forgive me if I’d rather be genuine, and sincere, but frank. Because I don’t relish painting people a picture that I know I can’t possibly live up to if they were to see what exists beyond the canvas.

“Nice” is what they call my classmate. Because she lets everyone have their way, even if it means putting them before herself 90% of the time. So forgive me if I don’t want to be “nice”.

Forgive me if I’d rather be strong, and spirited, or even selfish. Because the only people who shame standing up for yourself and what you want – are the ones who are too afraid to do it themselves.

“Nice” is how we claim every person seems to be when we barely even know them. Because first impressions count, and are apparently enough for us to make judgement calls on their entire character. So forgive me if I don’t want to be “nice.”

Forgive me if I’d rather be misunderstood, or complex, or even a little enigmatic. Because everyone has an unpleasant side, and at least I’d know who stuck around after seeing mine.

“Nice” is what you call that admirer of yours, whom you never give the time of day to. Because he has never been able to capture your attention for long enough that you bother actually getting to know him. And so you just sum him up in one lazy word. So forgive me if I don’t want to be “nice.”

Forgive me if I’d rather be compelling, and attractive, and desirable. Because we all know that “nice” is just a listless excuse we use to turn away the people that don’t meet our expectations in one way or another. (And of all the qualities we expect from someone who will matter in the long run: loyal, honest, kind – “nice” is hardly ever one of them.)

“Nice” is how I describe a mediocre night spent with mediocre company. Because I’m only happy when there’s trouble – but that’s not normal. And normal is watching a blockbuster movie with a boy that doesn’t even make my heart skip a beat when he’s pressed up against my side. So forgive me if I don’t want to be “nice.”

Forgive me if I’d rather be exciting, and captivating, and unforgettable. Because there will only be a handful of adventures that we’ll reminisce about for the rest of our lives, and the “nice nights” don’t ever make it on that list.

“Nice” is a lot of things. But no one bothers to think of what it isn’t.

“Nice” isn’t how we describe the moments most meaningful to us, or the moments that have changed us forever. It isn’t how we describe the best times of our lives that will never be relivable, no matter how hard we try to capture them in a photo, or a diary entry, or a memory.

“Nice” isn’t how we describe our parents, our best friends, our heroes. It isn’t how we describe the greatest people we know who escape all comprehensible description, that such a common word could never attempt to express who they are and how they’ve touched our lives.

“Nice” isn’t the first thing that will cross your mind when asked about what made you the person you are today. It isn’t the first thing that will cross your mind when you think about who and what you love most in this world. It also won’t be the last thing that will cross your mind as you draw your final breath on the stark white sheets of the hospital bed.

So forgive me, if I don’t want to have “nice days”, or have a “nice life”, or meet a ton of “nice people”. Forgive me, if I don’t want to be “nice”.

Forgive me, if I’d rather live a life beyond description.