almost every condescending, I mean, aged figure in my life has said. Usually in response to my distasteful comments regarding a particularly unsavory human.
“Hate’s a dirty word, and you should never use it,” they’d say.
I’d respond usually by saying, “well, that’s how I feel.” They would respond by saying, “no, you don’t.” Which would be incredibly irritating.
The truth is, I really do hate some people. Or so I thought I did. Hate is such a misunderstood, overused and cryptic word. It holds meanings that vary person to person, story to story.
What I have learned in my time on this planet, is that when we say we hate somebody – we don’t really mean that we hate them. Hate, I feel, is more of a placeholder. A word that contains many mixed feelings that can’t quite be explained, or understood at that moment.
Anytime I have ever said that I hate somebody, it has been in response to some sort of event, or action that they have caused, said, or done. Do I hate them for the very bloody mush of their being? Not really. I hate them for the things that transcend the word.
I hate a person for screaming at me, berating me, and hating me simply, for the small reason that I exist. Oh, how ironic, surely I can’t say that after writing everything prior to this.
The truth is, the person hated me, because they felt that I was more privileged, they felt that I was spoiled, and they felt that no matter what I wanted I would always get it, regardless of what it was.
They were jealous, and they were very rude. You can be jealous of somebody, and not express your jealousy outwardly. This person; however, they chose to express it outwardly. Frankly, over a period of 10 or so years, it gets very tiring deflecting a person’s constant attacks. I said that I didn’t hate anybody. I don’t hate this person, but I’m gonna stay as far the hell away as I can.
Hate is an umbrella term for many feelings. Feeling the feelings behind the word is important for mental health and recovery.
It’s also an ugly look.