Hate is a strange thing. It can strike at any time based on the actions of others or events beyond our control. The hate switch is flicked on mostly via impulse. It’s rare that it grows from nothing. It’s usually something that happens and then stops happening. At least that’s how it happens in my experience.
There are very few people I genuinely hate. Usually when I feel this strongest of negative emotions it’s because a person has done something I don’t like and, more often than not, it’s the action they take that I hate rather than the person themselves. Having said that there are people I hate.
There’s a person I went to school with that I hate. He was a vicious, nasty, spiteful, and jealous boy in my year at school who always had horrible things to say and bore all the hallmarks of a garden variety bully. He wasn’t a very good bully. He felt he could intimidate me and always failed miserably. I think that was maybe why he disliked me so much. The other reason was that he had always been obsessed with a girl that I ended up in a relationship with for a short while.
He tried bullying me one day while I was getting changed after P.E. and I was singing a song with my best friend. We were obviously getting on his nerves and he growled at me quite viciously and threateningly to shut up. I didn’t. I carried on. He didn’t scare me even remotely. Why would I be scared of such a pathetic person?
The best episode with this troglodyte, however, was when I was leaving school one day. I was walking down the road outside school with another friend and this guy started having a go. True to form I ignored him. He wasn’t worth listening to and certainly wasn’t worth talking to. The next thing I know the cowardly prick hit me on the side of my head from behind; a total blindside. Well it had to be, didn’t it? He was too much of a pussy to challenge me face on. My options were to hit him back or go and inform the teacher on the gate.
Two things would have happened had I hit him back. First of all I wouldn’t have stopped hitting him. Second of all I would have ended up in trouble. While he was worthy of the first he definitely wasn’t worth the second. So I decided to go with the option of telling the teacher. To the day I feel I made the right decision, although I dearly would have loved to get some form of retribution on the scumbag. His gormless face would have looked good with the imprint of my fist on it!
Why do I still hate him after all this time? I’m not sure. I should really feel nothing but apathy where he’s concerned. It has been eighteen years since that incident after all. Unfortunately that sensation of loathing has never gone away and it never will. Obviously he’s forgotten about everything as he tried to add me on Facebook a few years back. How fucking dare he? The fact that he’s made peace with himself and likely forgotten that day after school makes me hate him all the more.
Here’s a direct message to the miscreant: I hope your life has been nothing but abject misery and continues to be abject misery until the day you die. You might well have grown up and changed since those days. To me, however, you’ll always be that cocky and vicious bully. If some poor woman has been unfortunate enough to breed with you then I hope the child encounters a person just like you so that you can see what I had to put up with. Wanker!
He isn’t the only person I hate. I also hate a former so-called manager from a place I used to work. I disliked half of the managers anyway, but one in particular makes my blood boil whenever I think about him. I shan’t go into detail about why I hate him as the event that spawned the hatred still affects the present in some ways. I will say, though, that the man is a weasel of the highest order; a man who was handpicked as a manager because the person in charge of the operation was a friend. He certainly didn’t get the job on merit. He was about the worst manager I’ve ever encountered and that’s saying something about the place I worked which was (and I daresay still is) rife with nepotism and corruption. Rare was it that people achieved elevated positions on merit.
This manager’s actions impacted my life in a massive way; a way in which I have never fully recovered since. I know he doesn’t give a rat’s arse about that. He probably still gleans some sick satisfaction from it. He no doubt feels justified in his actions and that I got what was coming to me. While I don’t believe in the misrepresented ideal of karma (what goes around comes around – karma doesn’t mean that at all in its traditional sense), I hope, if it does exist, it bites my former manager hard. I hope terrible things happen to him as it’s no less than the abhorrent walking disease deserves.
I often use the word hate. I say it too much as a general feeling towards things. It’s a strong word because of the emotion attached to it and, by that yardstick, I can say I definitely use it out of context and more frequently than necessary.
Hate is not a good thing to feel. It consumes you and makes you bitter. Apathy is always a hundred times better than hatred. Wanting a person to fail and wishing misery on them should be something nobody experiences. In some ways I feel bad about my hatred for the abovementioned people. Not because I feel bad for them in any way. I feel bad for myself and the fact that I carry these nasty things inside me over them. They aren’t worth the space they occupy in my memory and I wish I could purge them from my consciousness. Unfortunately that doesn’t look likely to happen. I’m too set in my ways where they’re concerned.
I wish people wouldn’t do things that cause me to feel hatred, even fleetingly. There’s nothing good about the sensation. Unfortunately there seems no way to eradicate people doing badly by others and no way for people to be truly empathetic, at least not on a grand scale. When people do nasty things it’s always going to raise a sense of loathing. That’s understandable. What isn’t understandable is those who hate another for doing something that isn’t really harmful, it’s just that they don’t like it personally. That’s unjustifiable hatred. When you hate another person for thinking or feeling different to you about certain subjects then, in my opinion, you’re on your way to becoming a megalomaniac. If not then you already are one.
Hatred is a touchy subject. It’s an emotion too often verbally spouted, yet, I think, nowhere as often genuinely felt. It’s a very artificial emotion. When a human is born it seems to instinctively know what love is. Hate is something that’s taught. We—as parents and members of society—are responsible for spreading, teaching and glorifying hatred and children pick up on it. It makes you wonder what the next generation of children would be like if none at all were exposed to hate.
The very idea is preposterous of course. With the current climate of things there is absolutely no chance that hatred won’t be preached to our young. Let’s face it: some sects of society thrive off preaching it. It’s their sole objective. If anything I fear that the problem of hatred on a global scale is only going to increase. I suppose in some small doses it can be a good thing as a method of self-preservation. It is, after all, a form of wariness and distrust. These days there are too many bad people out there to willingly place trust in everybody.
So how do we combat hatred? That’s the crux, isn’t it? I suppose, as mentioned previously, the only real alternative to hatred is apathy. How do you teach apathy to a child? How do you explain to a child what apathy is and when to feel it without telling them about hatred as well? It’s all rather a big paradox.
I guess, in conclusion, there is no eradicating hate. I suppose the only real option is try to minimise it as best we can.