If you hate a person, you hate something in him that is part of yourself. What isn’t part of ourselves doesn’t disturb us. – Hermann Hesse
Hate. Haters, actually, is the topic for today’s post. I’m really not sure what to say on this. Hate is a word I try to reserve for inanimate objects and vegetables. It’s fine to hate broccoli, it’s not fine to hate people. Although, I do tend to hate people in large groups but that’s …
Okay, it’s really not that much different to hate large groups of people. But I really do try to avoid “hating” individual people. I’m not perfect, I have said it one or two … hundred times if I’m being totally honest.
Not everyone sees “hate” the same way I do. I remember going to the zoo with my mom, her sister and her kids when we were young and my younger cousin laying on the ground in the parking lot, screaming at his mother that he hated her. And it wasn’t just him and it wasn’t just in that moment. I have heard kids say that to their parents all my life. Hell, I may have said it once or twice to my own…can’t remember a specific instance but it’s not impossible.
I’m really not feeling this topic… sorry, folks, I think I’m going to have to call this one a wash.