The nature of love, at least in the sense of romance and friendship, is that it is unforeseen, unplanned. Out of some odd irony, or coincidence, one feels tinges of love where they previously did not exist for a person they previously did not care about. Love is normally experienced, felt and enjoyed before it is recognized as, and therefore called, love. In love, the emotions qualify the existence. In love, the happening is a mistake, sometimes a horrible one, sometimes a beautiful one.
The nature of hate, however, is that it is unnatural. Hate, in all of its malicious glory, is an intentional and directed occurrence. While one goes to sleep not expecting to love the next day, one wakes up with hate on their itinerary. Once they've decided to hate, their thoughts, actions and perception of others is molded to match. Once they've decided to hate an individual, their brain allows them to believe, with great confidence, that that individual in turn hates them, thereby justifying their hate. While love is often quietly unreciprocated, hate churns loudly in a violent cycle, even if it has only one participant. While love is usually a by chance happening, hate is a decision, an intention.
The problem with hate for the hated, is that it leads them to believe that they are worthy of hate, worthy of being hated. It makes them question themselves, makes them wonder what they did to deserve this intentional and directed emotion. It wounds their ego, hurts their pride, and knocks them to the floor. Hate hurts more than love satisfies, because love is a mistake, but hate is a bullet shot in execution-style; it is accurate, direct, and without mistakes.
The second problem with hate for the hated is that in its stinging freshness, it confuses and causes one to believe that if they are worthy of being hated, they are capable of hating as well.
And so they do. Or at least try to. Or at the very least except that they cannot, but try to convince all others that they do, that they hate with a fiery passion. Because the only thing more hurtful to one's image and esteem than being hated, is being hated without hating in return.
Unfortunately that's human nature, and not immaturity. Fortunately, neither are for me. Not for too long, at least.
"Was yesterday so important that you can't start fresh today?"
Not to me.
The nature of hate, however, is that it is unnatural. Hate, in all of its malicious glory, is an intentional and directed occurrence. While one goes to sleep not expecting to love the next day, one wakes up with hate on their itinerary. Once they've decided to hate, their thoughts, actions and perception of others is molded to match. Once they've decided to hate an individual, their brain allows them to believe, with great confidence, that that individual in turn hates them, thereby justifying their hate. While love is often quietly unreciprocated, hate churns loudly in a violent cycle, even if it has only one participant. While love is usually a by chance happening, hate is a decision, an intention.
The problem with hate for the hated, is that it leads them to believe that they are worthy of hate, worthy of being hated. It makes them question themselves, makes them wonder what they did to deserve this intentional and directed emotion. It wounds their ego, hurts their pride, and knocks them to the floor. Hate hurts more than love satisfies, because love is a mistake, but hate is a bullet shot in execution-style; it is accurate, direct, and without mistakes.
The second problem with hate for the hated is that in its stinging freshness, it confuses and causes one to believe that if they are worthy of being hated, they are capable of hating as well.
And so they do. Or at least try to. Or at the very least except that they cannot, but try to convince all others that they do, that they hate with a fiery passion. Because the only thing more hurtful to one's image and esteem than being hated, is being hated without hating in return.
Unfortunately that's human nature, and not immaturity. Fortunately, neither are for me. Not for too long, at least.
"Was yesterday so important that you can't start fresh today?"
Not to me.
i actually have nothing insightful to say. its goow writing tho
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