Hate. Such an overused and under-appreciated word. How many times does someone say how much they hate something or someone trivial? They don't know the meaning of the word, the loathing, anger, sadness wrapped into those four letters. You don't know the pain that causes true hate. Disgust isn't hate. Fear isn't hate. Words called in anger don't mean hate. Hate is not an object, something you use over and over again without it losing its value. If you hate, it consumes your whole being. You can't eat, can't sleep, can't even think about anything but the wretched wrathful vengeful feeling inside. When you hate, it breaks you into little pieces that get put back together almost-but-not-quite-right so they form something recognizable, but not as you. Something familiar that weighs on your mind until you realize it's the changed regressed different version of someone you thought you knew. Hate completely utterly unmistakably changes you. You can't hide from the feeling growing twisting living deep inside of you. No escape no way out no time to fix it. Not. A. Single. Second. To. Think. You just are. There is no love, no like, nothing besides contemptuous terrible hate. The reasons stop mattering and all you want is revenge vengeance payback. It doesn't matter who or what or how or when or why. Just that it is. Hate consumes your soul, the thing that imbues your earthly spirit with the things that are you. No love, life, laughter, happiness, moodiness, sadness, anger, feeling but hate. That is all there is. Nothing more. Nothing less. Not even an in between. Just hate. You think you're invulnerable impenetrable safe. The big bad monster won't find you. It won't get you. You're mistaken very sadly wrong. Nothing is more absolute than hate. Not love not life not the blueness of the sky. All. There. Is. Is. Hate.
What is hate?
January 30, 2012