Hatred is, “Intense dislike or ill will,” according to google.

Hate is a strong word. Intense.

Have you ever hated anything? Truly felt hatred deep in your bones?

A boiling disgust that bubbles up from the gut, burning your chest.

Heat rising to your cheeks, quickening heart. A feeling so powerful it consumes you.

Towards a person maybe, someone who has done you wrong. Or worse – someone who has done wrong to one you love.

A murderer. A criminal. A thief. A liar.

A place. School, detention, prison, who knows. A song played too often on the radio. The guy who cheated on you in high school. The word “moist.”

With the capability to like, there is the capacity to dislike. With love, it is fairly likely one contains the antithetical feeling.


Feelings consume me. Emotions flood every pore, every single facet of my being. When I feel, i feel. I ache. I drown. I implode. It is who I am, who I always have been.

When I love, it is whole. The feeling overflows out of my body, eyes, my smile. Love is projected through my words, what I say. What I see. What I do.

When I hate, just like any other emotion, it engulfs me. Hatred metastasizes throughout every cell. The feeling advances to my blood, it boils. My skin crawls.

Always contained, never towards another. Hatred stays inside, it churns, billows, destroys. Never to breakout, it yearns for an escape.

Escalating. With no exodus in sight, my hatred seethes, stews, and cooks. Growing stronger.

Each particle of love leaves, unrestricted, vacating from my body through laughter, a soft touch, a genuine smile. For every person but myself. None is left inside. I pour it out. I exude it. Freely and openly.

The more fiercely I give out love, the more intensely hatred surges into its place.

Revulsion oozes into the void, the emptiness. Expanding. Multiplying. I grasp onto it tightly. Possessive.

Everything disappears. I can see nothing. Feel nothing. Think about nothing else but all-consuming, overwhelming, hostile loathing.

When I look in the mirror.

When I hear myself talk.

When I look at my legs, my stomach, my teeth, my hair. My fingernails bitten down to the quick.

When I take up space.

When I’m in the way, when I’m unneeded.

When I hurt someone, when I do the wrong thing.

When I fail, mess up.

When I think of what I’ve done. Of what I haven’t done.

When I remember what’s been done to me.

When I think about who I am.

The hatred burns. My insides crumble, caving in. This body, a pressure cooker.

And I have to act. I have to do something.

I need to let it out. The hatred needs to escape. My blood is boiling over, cells hypertrophying. I can’t hold it all inside anymore. I can’t. But I also cannot let it harm another.

Just a scratch, a cut, and the pressure releases. Only a bit. But like a microscopic tear in a balloon, I begin to deflate. There’s room again. Yes, it is emptiness. But this is better than the storm. Chaos calms momentarily.

I expel whatever is inside. What I’ve eaten. Whatever I’ve done. Through blood, sweat, through tears, however I can empty these feelings of guilt, shame, disgust, hatred erupting from my core.

Exploding with love, imploding with loathing. Destroying myself, empty ruins all that remain. How much longer can I keep this up?

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