“Can’t say I’m proud I feel hate towards you. It is a vile feeling, one that poisons and, deep down, it drags me into the mud, gets me dirty, and instigates self-loathing. Who is it that could take all this away? Who could possibly help me unpack the emotional clusterfuck I find myself trapped in.”

If the above sounds remotely familiar, congratulations, you are a human being with feelings, with a heart that bleeds, and not some narcissistic asshole, or some ice-queen, that wants to rule all people from their throne.

We hate because we want to feel. Hate is equally as intense as love. They are two sides of the same coin, two siblings that cannot look each other in the eyes. Both push people to the extremes, both make them do things they otherwise wouldn’t. Both –or either of them separately– are the catalysts for dramatic changes in appearance, lifestyle, place of residence, life course. They can turn one’s everyday life upside down; they can create immense anxiety and obsession.

Hate, though, can make someone a stone-cold cynic, a force majeure, unstoppable and unaffected even if the world around them is on fire.

Do you fancy it a bit melodramatic, dearies?

How is it that all of us have felt hate towards someone or something at some point in our lives but have not expressed it directly, just letting it destroy us from within? Can someone attest, I wonder, to the fact that hate is just as, if not more, difficult to express as love to a significant other?

Have you experienced how the legs tremble, the palms become sweaty and the heart begins racing? The symptoms mentioned are directly connected to love and, sometimes, rage.

Hate has a strange stoicism to it. You are stable, your focus is clear, your hands are tight fists, your breath steady. You hate someone with everything you have in you, all the years of experience, all the suffering and pain you have endured, and you project your worst desires on them.

Hate is the living force that drives many of the people around us. It is their essence, their way of living, it’s the single thing that puts them to bed at night, all they care about and all that makes sense, in a world that is more and more postmodern in its lack of sense and sensibility.

Should we feel sorry, then, for those who hate? Embrace them and tell them that they are loved? Fight like many religions suggest we do, or turn the other cheek hoping for the best?

I will take a deep breath.

I channeled a lot of hate to write this article, without any particular recipient. A few years ago I experienced, in my own country, a devastating election result – hate prevailed. And for the past few months, I see that hate consuming people more and more. All the symptoms I described above, connected to love or not, appeared in various forms and sizes.

Hate makes some overtly brave and terrifies others.

I stand in shock and awe as I see people around me with their eyes on the ground, because, it has now been proven that hate occasionally wins.

And it is precisely then that we count friends and partners.

Author: Michael Poe

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