"Numb"

"I can't feel you there
Become so tired, so much more aware
I'm becoming this
All I want to do
Is be more like me
And be less like you"

I often write about love. I write about several aspects of it and I can write these thoughts because I've been lucky enough to experience these feelings. Yes, I suppose I might even consider myself "lucky" that my unlucky forays into romanticism have been sad because, not only have I gone through (or am going through) these tough times, but I can relate to others who are or may go through something similar and maybe relieve them if but a little bit of their burden. It's such a strong emotion, love. It reaches so deep into our being and controls us like no other emotion can.
At least, that's what I used to think.

Hate is one of those words we throw around very easily (much like "love"). "Oh, I hate broccoli!" "I hate Mondays!" "I hate wearing pants!" We even employ it when referring to other people. "I hate my boss! "I hate my teacher!" "I hate my mom for making me wear pants!" When we hear people talking like this, some say "Hate is such a strong word." I never really understood how strong of a word it could be until sometime mid-November.

I used to be one of those people who'd use "hate" as a mildly negative adjective; I never really hated what I said I hated. I might have dislike something or someone. They may have done something to cross me. I might be disappointed by certain aspects in an object or event or person. But I can't say I ever really truly hated anybody. In fact, I've made a point to keep from really hating things or others. However, I am only human, and after having my patience whitled down after so long, I've finally admitted to myself how I truly feel about a certain individual.

There are many things that can annoy us to the point that we find them bothersome. However there are a few things that will generally drive a person towards hatred. Things such as betrayal, mistrust, several forms of harm and abuse, disrespect. These are all very general but they all go hand-in-hand with each other; you can't have one without having another. Some people have more patience and understanding then others and can withstand, even ignore, this kind of behaviour. But, we all have a breaking point; No one is beyond hating a fellow human.

Unfortunately for myself, this person whom I've admitted to hating is a very important person in my life. Over the years my thoughts have sometimes hovered over the idea that I hate him, but I always passed it off as an absurd thought. There was no way I could hate him, and if I did, I'd come off as an asshole to others, even if I explained my feelings.

But, last month, I'd finally had enough! I let him have it! He'd fucked up bad! I had tried to get him to understand my situation but he couldn't comprehend the idea that he could be wrong. I found myself instinctively screaming at the top of my lungs, as if the increase in volume might penetrate his thick head. It did no good. All it did was fuel his unsubstantiated anger.

We found ourselves grappling one another and I nearly brought myself to harming him. Years and years of hatred I'd been turning inwards finally being unleashed towards its proper owner. And if I had a fraction less of the sense I have, I probably would have smashed his face! I didn't want to hurt him. Yes, I hated him, but I'm not one to harm another. I may have been furious beyond any kind of anger I've felt before, but he was just a stupid man. He didn't know what the fuck was going on no mater how much I tried to explain it to him.

I tossed him away desperate to keep myself from doing something I'd surely regret. I proceeded to take out my anger on my surroundings (my heater, my laptop, and my wall were among the more notable victims of my wrath).

Dazed and confused (or, perhaps, just plain ignorant) he left me alone, even now still wondering what it was he'd done wrong.

I later went to see him. He had wanted to say something to me as I was thrashing about earlier that night. I had had about a half an hour to cool down but I was still furious. Even so, I had enough sense to allow him to say whatever it was he'd wanted to say.

We sat at a table, neither one of us able to look at the other. "What was it you were going to say?" I asked.

He paused as if trying to remember whither he was going to say anything before or not. "I just wanted to apologize for whatever it was that made you upset."

"Upset"?! "Whatever it was"?! Could this guy be anymore clueless? I asked him what it was he was apologizing for.

He proceeded to recite the speech he's used on countless occasions to get people to forgive him. You may have heard it before from someone else. You know, that I'm-so-helpless-I'm-so-stupid-but-you're-not-perfect-either-(insert ever-expanding list of your own faults here) speech to make you feel guilty and somehow force the both of you to come to some sort of truce. I'd heard it all before; it was bullshit then and it was, more than ever, bullshit in that moment.

When he'd finally concluded farce of an "apology" he was so detached from what we were talking about in the first place that, if you'd been listening to the last three minutes of his little rant, you'd wouldn't even know what the fuck he was talking about!

I should have berated him for his little guilt-trip spiel; told him that he still didn't know what the fuck was going on. But I didn't. I just sat there wondering, after all the explaining I'd done, in calm and in furious anger, how the hell he missed the goddamn point!

It was in that moment that I knew that my feelings were not lying to me; that I indeed hated the man sitting across from me. It was such a disgusting feeling and even now, thinking about the hatred I feel, it makes me feel sick. I didn't want to hate him and, in the past, I'd turned the hatred inwards, driving me deeper and deeper into my depression. I wish things didn't have to be like this though. I really wish there was a way to keep both our moral and principal integrity intact while at the same time co-existing harmoniously. But we contrast each other far too much for that to be possible, it seems.

There was nothing left to say. What could I say? I stood up and left. That was the last time I spoke to my father.