Hate

It’s hard not to hate people, things, institutions, when they break your spirit and take pleasure in watching you bleed. Hate is the only feeling that makes sense, but I know what hate does to a man. It tears him apart, turns him into something he’s not. Something he promised himself he’d never become. Hate is easy, but it’s destructive.

I’ve spent much of my life hating, and I wish I could say I didn’t hate today, but that would be a lie. There is a fine line between love and hate, sometimes you think you’re on one side but you’re really on the other.

I’m not strong enough to know which side I’m always on.

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