They say that you
hate in others what you
hate about yourself. Deep down, I expect that is true. So look at yourself. Take a good long look at your shadow. What tickles that fury deep in your belly? What makes your eyebrow twitch and your collar tighten? What makes your bile crawl up your throat?
What do you hate?
I
hate what has happened to America. I
hate how easy it is to justify. I
hate that what worked in the past is what screws you over in the future. I
hate how the old men of the Cold War have conducted business as usual and have stripped the American way of life of all its trappings of glory and righteousness. I
hate how it justifies the viewpoints of extremists. I
hate that people die, all around the world, because people just can't relate to each other. I
hate that deep down, I always felt it would.
I
hate how easy ideas can be perverted to agendas. I
hate how religion is both so wonderful and so terrible. I
hate what goes on in the name of deities that no-one can speak too. I
hate not knowing if I am the only one that doesn't hear the voice, or see the signs. I
hate living with guilt, and I
hate those that would find me guilty.
I
hate people that gloss over injustices, and whitewash emotions. I
hate how raging on one issue can make you one dimensional and a caricature of impotence. I
hate how the media can package an opinion with the facts so easily. I
hate that young men die because they did or didn't believe in what they were told.
I
hate dogma and I
hate fearing free expression. I
hate ignorance, but I also
hate the needlessly obscene. I
hate the puerile, but I
hate the prudish.
I
hate guessing and I
hate waiting. I
hate knowing before I should, and I
hate lying when I shouldn't. I
hate spoilers, and I
hate inside jokes that have me on the outside. I
hated high school, and I
hate missing it. I
hate that I lost contact with some friends, and I
hate that I know we wouldn't have anything to talk about now. I
hate my ex-girlfriends for making me love them, and I
hate them for moving on after me. I
hate that other men have them now. I
hate the things I said to them, in teenage rages.
I
hate the dead for leaving me, and I
hate myself for not getting more of them while they lived. I
hate how time changes things I once loved into things I miss. I
hate how places I used to be welcome in have healed over and forgotten me. I
hate how my hometown has died. I
hate that life will go on when I am gone. I
hate thinking about leaving everything behind. I
hate losing control. I
hate having control.
I
hate not having time. I
hate not being able to relax or sleep or bend my own will to my schedule. I
hate clock watching. I
hate busy work. I
hate failure and repetition. I
hate not knowing how things will end. I
hate ruining surprises. I
hate new rules and I
hate old rules. I
hate breaking rules. I
hate breaking expectations. I
hate obligations, performance goals and measures of worth. I
hate having less than the sticker price.
I
hate pocket change. I
hate carpet lint. I
hate Earth being alone in the universe. I
hate that the Moon is right there in the sky and I will never set foot on it. I
hate people younger than me being millionaires. I
hate that the dot-com bubble burst. I
hate that I missed the party. I
hate growing old. I
hate the alternative. I
hate not knowing.
I
hate not writing more. I
hate that I feel I should.
Am I full of
hate? I
hate that I don't care.