Hate

I firmly believe
That you cannot hate someone
Unless at least some small part of you
Loves
Just some small part of them.

They say hate is an emotion,
But it is a state of mind.
It becomes your environment:
All-inclusive
Consuming

It's filled with mood swings:
Joy, regret, anger, joy, anger, regret, sorrow, regret, anger...
And that's just today.
And every time the mood changes
It doesn't creep up slowly,
You get a few minutes to realize a new mood is coming, and then it hits you
And it's the most profound feeling you've ever felt.

The joy is marked by freedom from what you hate, and a love for its opposite.
They joy I've felt is some of the greatest I ever have.

The regret tells you of everything that could have been without what you hate,
And it reminds you of what good it brought, and how much more it could have if you let it,
If you didn't hate it.
But the more you think about it, the more you do.

And that becomes anger.
Your mind becomes consumed with those same thoughts,
Thoughts of everything having to do with what you hate
And makes you hate it more,
Paints everything with a red rage.

Then it slips away, and the joy returns though not as strong as you first felt it.
It's more of a relief, a subtle comfort in letting venting your rage;
But you still can't stop thinking about it:
And you're back in the same rage

Only this time it's longer, more profound,
It's enough to leave you crippled on the floor, lost in your thoughts
Not knowing any way to vent or cope or deal with it,
Not being able to use the methods you know...
Except you're not, you are fully aware and capable of doing whatever you want,
Except all your methods,
Everything you knew about control and venting amounts to nothing.
I write to vent, and yet as much as I write it's like I haven't done anything
It doesn't make the anger subside.

After a while, it just does on its own,
Your mind keeps racing, only slower,
Again you feel the regret
Which becomes true sorrow for what you hate,
Because you realize that there is something about it you love,
And that your love and anything you did could never change it,
You can never do anything to change that which you hate.
And you feel helpless.

Again there's that nagging regret, only it's different now,
You feel helpless and you blame yourself:
For not being better,
For not being different,
Perhaps for hating in the first place.
And you do this because when you realize there's something small that you love,
It becomes so much harder to keep on hating.
And you know there's no alternative,
There's no other way to feel about it
And if you tired to make yourself feel something else
It wouldn't work.

So you remind yourself of all that you hate about it,
You let your mind race again,
Your anger swell up,
And you tell yourself "never again,"
You won't let yourself think of that small part you love
Because you know it will stop the anger
And make you question the hate.
You know you can't stop the hate,
And the anger just makes it easier.