hate


i hated so many things growing up. i hated my parents. i hated the cold war iciness. i hated myself. i hated feeling awkward. i hated feeling alone. i held hate like a staff i leaned on, a staff i fought with, a staff that carried me out from the horrors i was raised in and among.

but my hate is tired now. my staff is whittled itself from overuse down to a toothpick i carry in my breast pocket.

i worry about people who are stuck in a bad situation but are not allowed to hate, either because of their religion or they live with a brute (male or female)who reserves the right to hate as if it were a privilege. but i also worry about people like those brutes, who have no other consciousness outside of their hatred.

hate is salt. too much will kill your heart. not enough will keep life tasting like baby food.

question: who do you hate now with your toothpick size staff?

diana: small things can be more powerful than large things. no one. isn't that great? i don't hate anyone anymore. but i have a pure thread of hate i reserve for times when i need to spice up my energy field. all i have to do is look around and i can usually find something to hate.

question: like an energizer pill?

diana: exactly. but it only works after you've exercised a lot of your hate. you can't start out knowing how things work. you have to do a lot of things before you even begin to get the gist of what's going on.


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