Sunday, May 24, 2015



I can't say that I have ever hated anyone.

Hate is such a strong emotion. It can consume your every waking minute, and it requires far too much energy and will for me to bother with it.

I do know others who hate, and that seems to be all they can talk about — how much the object of that hatred is just this or that — always something negative, with no redeeming qualities whatsoever.

Sometimes, I think hate is mixed in with feelings of love.

To hate means that you must have some sort of connection with the other person, possibly even a positive relationship that went sour, for whatever reason.

Love grows cold, friendships lose vitality, family ties unravel, and the result is a confusion of feelings that leave you drifting from emotion to emotion. It's all sort of like a smoothie of anger and affection whipped up in a blender and poured out in a tall glass. But anger and affection never mix well, and there are always these chunks of spite and angst floating around the bottom of the glass. It's a tough swallow.

Now, this is not to say that I have loved everyone in my life. Some people have troubled me greatly, usually the liars and frauds that drift around like ragweed pollen in the wind. Surprisingly enough, however, I have never made that leap to hate. Usually, I stop short of falling into the pit of hatred. Those people earn my disregard, and that's the end of it. I don't necessarily wish them well, but neither do I wish them harm.

They simply cease to exist in my universe.



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